


Remembering Granger

by Shamione



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Depression, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Happy Ending, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Loss of Parent(s), Memory Loss, References to Depression, Romantic Fluff, Smut, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-30
Updated: 2020-06-04
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:55:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 23
Words: 72,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23401063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shamione/pseuds/Shamione
Summary: After an unspeakable accident, Hermione is left without her memories of the past 12 years. Waking up in an unfamiliar hospital, she can't understand the changes that are all around her.Her gut tells her "friends" are liars, leaving out important information as to who she was. Who she is. Can the mysterious man, Malfoy, shed light in an unknown war torn past and help her find herself? Can she trust the people who call her their best friend?TW: death, depressive states, suicidal thoughtsBut it will definitely get fluffier!I do not own Harry Potter in any way.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 201
Kudos: 371





	1. Chapter 1

A faint buzzing woke him from a deep slumber. He cracked his eyes with a start, blinking back the blinding pain while staring at his clock. The red timestamp read 3:14 a.m. What in the... He thought with a grimace. Reaching into the nightstand, Harry pulled the annoying device out to see an unknown number calling him. No one called him on this phone...

"Hello?" he said groggily as he quietly slipped from bed with a backward glance at his wife. Ginny shifted in her sleep with a huff.

"Hello, is this Mr. Potter?" 

"Yeah," Harry mumbled as he made his way quietly to the door.

"Hello, Mr. Potter, this is Dr. Oliver from Royal London Hospital. We are calling you regarding a Miss Hermione Jean Granger. You are listed as both her next of kin and emergency contact." 

Harry froze as he registered Hermione's name, an immediate panic set in. Forgetting his quietness, he spoke loudly, "What's happened? Is she alright?" 

"She's in stable condition, but we're keeping her in the ICU for monitoring. If you could please come to the hospital to discuss her condition further, it would be better done in person." Dr. Oliver sounded short, clinical, and it did nothing to calm Harry's racing heart.

"Right, yes, of course. I'll be there as fast as I can." Harry said, thanking Dr. Oliver as he snapped the phone shut. 

Ginny, clicking the light on, stared at him with wide eyes. "What's happened? Where are you going?"

Harry quickly got dressed. "Hermione, A&E -- I have to go." He said in a rush. Reaching for his wand, he summoned his trainers and hastily put them on. 

"Oh, gods, is she okay?!" Ginny questioned as she jumped from their bed, starting to clothe herself. There was a fear in her voice, and in her frantic pace she jammed her toe into the bed frame. "Bloody hell!" 

"Gin, relax. It will be okay. They said she's stable," Harry explained as he walked Ginny, putting his hands on her shoulders. He had no idea if it was genuinely going to be okay, but having a panicked pregnant wife would not help the current situation. "You've got to stay here with James, so get back in bed." 

"I will not! My best friend is in the hospital! I'll take him to the Burrow and meet you. Where is she?" Ginny lamented. 

"Gin, I'll call you when I figure more out. Relax," Harry kissed her on the forehead. "Don't get worked up. The baby won't like that." Reaching down, he kissed her small, protruding belly, as well. 

"Harry. James. Potter. I will not sit here while my best friend is in a hospital bed!" She yelled, and Harry sighed, knowing what would come next. Down the hall, James started to cry, amplified in their room by a magical baby monitor charm. 

"Great..." Ginny sighed. Looking back at Harry, she held unshed tears in her eyes. "Is she alright?" Ginny whispered as a tear fell down her cheek.

"I don't know, Gin, but I'll call you when I find out." 

"Call me the minute you know."

"I will, Gin. I love you." 

"Love you, too, Potter." 

And without warning, Harry disappeared in a crack of apparition. 

\--- 

The closest apparition spot landing him few streets over from The Royal London hospital. Catching his barrings, he immediately felt a downpour of rain assault his vision. He walked quickly, not caring that he was getting soaked, his only worry to arrive at the hospital as swiftly as possible. The roar of sirens booming by as he walked closer to his destination set his nerves afire again. 

His best friend was currently lying in the ICU… his only thought on repeat was that she needed to survive this, had to endure. Hermione was the closest thing to a sister that he had. He'd already lost so much of his family, he couldn't lose his surrogate one as well. 

Rushing through the front doors of the emergency ward, his heart hammering in his chest, he squinted as his eyes adjusted to the brightness. He wiped the residual rain off his glasses and straightened up as he approached the front desk. 

"I'm looking for..." but the woman he addressed held up a finger while picking up a phone with multiple flashing lights. Taking a deep breath, Harry drummed his fingers on the counter as she finished her call. 

"Yes, sir. How can I help you?" She asked with an annoyed tone. Harry thought it must be near the end of her shift. He recognized her annoyed glare, he used the same regularly at the DMLE. 

"I'm here for Hermione Granger, her next of kin. She is in the ICU." 

The nurse at the front desk checked her computer, one much nicer than anything Harry had ever seen. "Mr. Potter?" and Harry nodded. "Please have a seat, Dr. Oliver's nurse will be out to bring you back shortly." 

Now irritated, Harry gave her a clipped "thanks" and made his way to the uncomfortable purple and blue patterned waiting room chairs. The waiting area was eerily quiet, other than a child screaming a few seats over. The televisions played a muted show then went unnoticed by most visitors. A few patrons were sleeping while others stared blankly around the room. The longer Harry sat, the more agitated he grew. 

The screaming child threw themself to the floor in a tantrum. His mother looked exhausted, and Harry could empathize with her plight. James was a loud child who constantly wailed for attention. There were many nights he and Ginny had stayed up until all hours of the morning trying to soothe him, only to be woken 3 hours later by his cries. 

"Mr. Potter?" A short, plump woman with blonde hair called out through the monotony, her back holding open the emergency ward door. She looked up from her clipboard and scanned the room. "Potter?" 

Harry clambered to his feet, "Here," he asserted as he nearly sprinted to the door. 

"Great, please come with me." Harry nodded and followed her through the long, sterile halls. She was just as clinical as Dr. Oliver had been on the phone. Harry suspected they did it to stay detached from the ever-changing situations around them. It couldn't be easy seeing people come and go, whether living or dead, so frequently. 

She stopped at a room isolated from the others and motioned to the chair outside of it. "If you don't mind. Dr. Oliver will be along shortly to speak with you. 

"Is she in there? I want to see her." Harry affirmed in his impatience. Being informed that he had to speak with the doctor before seeing Hermione left an uneasy feeling in his guy. 

"I'm sorry, Mr. Potter, Dr. Oliver requested to speak with you before seeing the patient." She nodded and left him standing in the hall. 

Harry sat, but he wasn't alone for long. A tall, thin, white-haired man approached him. Dr. Oliver was embroidered on his white medical jacket, and he wore a blue shirt with a pair of dark trousers underneath. The doctor held his hand out, and Harry grasped it, giving it a shake.

"Mr. Potter. It's nice to meet you. Dr. Oliver." 

"Likewise," Harry said, dropping the doctor's hand. "What happened?" 

"Follow me to my office, please, we can discuss in there." Harry followed Dr. Oliver around the corner to his open office door. Dr. Oliver waited, indicating for Harry to enter first. Harry's heart hammered in his ears as he heard the door click shut.

"Thank you for coming so quickly. You must live close by."

"Uh... yeah. Not too far from here." Harry lied. "What's happened with Hermione?"

"Mr. Potter," Dr. Oliver began as he sat opposite Harry at his desk, "your friend was in a severe accident late last night. Her vehicle was hit head-on by a semi-tractor, the driver was drunk. It is a miracle she is alive. She was rushed here and underwent 5 hours of emergency surgery. We weren't sure if she would make it through the night. Her parents were in the front seat and died on impact." Harry's heart fell into his stomach listening to Dr. Oliver explain.

"Her... her parents?" Harry couldn't think of anything else to say. Hermione had spent months tracking down her parents after the war had ended. It had taken her 3 months to find them in a small seaside town in Australia and another 4 months working with Healers to attempt memory reversal. She had been grief-stricken when the Australian Healers told her they had tried all they could but couldn't bring them back. 

She had spent a considerable portion of her war award money from the Ministry to fly in a specialized Healer from America. He spent weeks working on her parent's minds and was able to return a portion of their memories to them. While he couldn't bring them all back, he had given them enough to remember their daughter. It took her parents a while to forgive her, but they had been inseparable since. She had lived with them when they moved back to London to be reacquainted. After she moved in with Ron, she spent every weekend with them doing little things like shopping for groceries or simply watching television.

"Yes, Mr. Potter. That is why we called you. Unfortunately, both of her parents passed, and you are listed as her next of kin." Harry nodded dumbly, still in shock. "Miss Granger is in a coma due to brain injuries sustained in the accident."

Harry stared at Dr. Oliver, unable to process the emotions swirling through him. "A coma?!" Harry exclaimed as his senses kicked backed into gear. "You said she was stable!"

"She is stable. All of her vital signs are within normal ranges, the surgery to relieve the pressure on her brain was successful. We will just need to continue to monitor her throughout her coma." Dr. Oliver removed his glasses and set them on his desk. "I'm sorry, Mr. Potter. I know this is a lot to take in."

"You're bloody right, it is!" Harry was angry. Not at the doctor or the hospital that had saved his surrogate sister, but at the world for letting something so heinous happen to someone so genuinely kind. Hermione had already suffered so much. She didn't deserve this. "When can I see her?"

"We have some paperwork we need you to fill out. Her parent's burial information and the like. But I can let you see her before if you would like."

Harry nodded his head lamely and stood to follow the doctor back to Hermione's room. His heart was pounding in his chest, unshed tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. Dr. Oliver clapped him on the shoulder reassuringly and informed him he needed to make rounds but would come back to collect him. Harry had barely heard or been able to acknowledge the doctor as he left. 

Lifting a shaking hand to the doorknob of Hermione's room, Harry took a deep breath. Whatever he had imagined he'd see when he opened the door was nothing compared to the sight of Hermione's bruised body as she lay still in her bed. Her head was wrapped entirely in bandages, including the whole left side of her face. Blood had seeped through, and the bandages were stained dark red. She had a tube down her throat, and machines were filling the room with buzzing as they monitored her vitals. Her arms and he assumed her legs were covered in cuts and bruises. It brought back memories of her tortured body after they escaped from Malfoy Manor, and he broke down crying. 

He shuffled to her bedside, choking on a sob as he sat in the chair next to her. "Oh, 'Mione..." he cried as he set his hand on top of her still one. Seeing his best friend lay unconscious to the world broke his heart, and he cried harder than he had done in years. 

"Mr. Potter?" A hand settled on Harry's shoulder sometime later and startled him. He looked up at Dr. Oliver with red-streaked cheeks, tears flowing freely from his eyes. "The nurses need to change her bandages now. Can you please come with me for the paperwork?" 

Harry nodded, standing with one last glance to his best friend. "Stay strong, 'Mione..." he whispered as he leaned over and kissed her exposed cheek. He didn't want to leave, but a nurse bound into the room and gently pushed him toward the door. Her cheery yet subdued "she's in great hands," did nothing to soothe him. Harry gave a final look back at his best friend as he followed Dr. Oliver out for paperwork.


	2. Awake

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't wait. I wanted to post another update, so here ya go. As always, I don't own anything related to Harry Potter. 
> 
> Feedback welcome :)

Hermione's head was hammering; she had never known such immense pressure behind her eyes. It seemed like a heavy-handed man was stabbing daggers deep into her skull. She attempted to wiggle her fingers, but her body denied her motions; she felt a heaviness on herself that she couldn't explain. Her mouth was dry, her face hurt, and she didn't know why.

Opening her eyes was a blinding experience. Little did her lids move, but it had been more than enough. She groaned in pain as the light attacked her vision. Clamping her eyes shut swiftly to shield them from the searing pain, she cried again at her distress. 

Hermione heard a commotion and felt a delicate hand touch hers but couldn't bring herself to open her eyes to investigate the owner. "'Mione? Can you hear me?" The voice and nickname were unfamiliar, but she whimpered in response to the questioning. 

"Oh, thank Merlin!" The stranger emitted, and it sent a sharp sting through Hermione's already distressed head. "I'll get the Healers, 'Mione. Stay awake, please!" She felt the pressure leave her hand as the stranger disappeared from her side. 

Healer? She assumed some off-color term for a doctor. Her mind began to race, guessing she must be sick or in the infirmary. But why? She couldn't recall what she had been doing last. The memories she could recall were all hazy, unrecognizable visions. Hermione's head throbbed as she tried to remember any circumstance that may have led to her discomfort. 

The commotion around her raised anew, and she felt something cold as it was placed upon her forehead. She cried at the contact as another unfamiliar voice addressed her. "Ms. Granger? Can you speak?" Hermione thought it was a stupid question, but when her voice failed to work, she felt a wave of panic wash over her body. 

A beeping noise intensified in her ears, and the stranger addressed her again. "Ms. Granger, please relax. You're safe. You're not in any danger." His words did little to calm Hermione's nerves. She tried to open her eyes, but the light blinded her again. She sobbed in agony as she heard someone else order the lights turned lower. She saw the room darken behind her eyelids.

"Take your time. Don't rush yourself, Ms. Granger." This stranger, who she assumed was her doctor, certainly appreciated her surname. "When you're ready, we've shielded the lights." Hermione groaned in discomfort again but cracked her eyes open slightly. The new dimness of the room allowed her to force open her eyes fully. Her vision was hazy, with spots blocking out areas of her peripherals. "You're doing great," she was praised. 

"Vitals are normal. Heart rate is good. Blood pressure is stable." Another voice, a nurse not in her line of sight, Hermione assumed, spoke. 

"Ms. Granger, take your time, but please do not fall back asleep just yet." At this, Hermione closed her eyes and sighed. Her injuries must have been severe, based on the tones of voices she heard around her.

"My... throat..." she wheezed out. It was challenging to speak; it felt like a razor was being dragged along her windpipe. 

"Ms. Granger, we have a potion you need to take. We're going to lean you up, but you have to swallow on your own." She felt the upper half of her body leave the mattress but felt no hands on her lifting her torso. As her body bent at the waist, she moaned in misery anew. "I'm sorry, Ms. Granger, the potion will help," The voice spoke again. Potion - he had said potion again. Hermione couldn't understand what was happening. She felt panic rising again in her, unable to distinguish where she was or who was supporting her.

Hermione felt a thin glass edge graze against her bottom lip and she opened her mouth as wide as her pained jaws would permit. She felt a mucky, foul-tasting fluid flow into her mouth and wanted to retch, but her body protested the movement. Swallowing with difficulty, she felt and tasted as the unpleasant liquid run down her throat. The instant it reached the back wall of her mouth, the discomfort in her throat and jaws dwindled. The sensation continued until she could swear she felt the liquid resting in her stomach, making her body feel more at peace. 

"Ms. Granger, can you tell me how you feel?" 

"My...my head hurts. Everything aches." Hermione whimpered. 

"You've been laying very still for a couple of months, your body will need to adjust." The doctor's clinical response came. "Can you open your eyes for me?"

Doing as directed, Hermione opened her eyes completely. The lights were still dim, but the flaws in her eyesight had faded somewhat. She could barely make out three bodies near her. As her eyes cleared entirely, she could see one person was a middle-aged, brown-haired man in what looked like a green gown. He was flanked by two younger women, a blonde who had a sympathetic look on her face and a stocky young woman with black hair who held a clipboard and a small vial of shimmering purple liquid. Both women were also clad in lime green gowns. 

The room around her was unlike any hospital she had ever seen. She had broken her wrist at age eight and recalled the place got a cast being stark white and nearly criminally clean. The room she lay in now was anything but her prior experiences; it actually wasn't a room at all. Around her were walls of red curtains that did not reach the ceiling above. The curtains didn't reach all the way to the floor, either, and she could see a set of feet standing outside. The bed she laid in was more of a cot; it had little support, the metal was chipped, and the pillows were uneven. In the corner of the curtain compartment sat two rickety chairs with a small table in between. The table held a single cup of tea and a book abandoned atop it. 

Hermione discerned no medical machines were surrounding her bed, nothing that would produce the faint beeping she could hear. Her fingers were free of a heart rate monitor, and no wires were attached to her chest to monitor her heart. All that filled her very tiny, curtain box was a cart, the bed she laid in, two chairs and the table, and three grown adults in lime green dresses. 

"Hello, Ms. Granger," the man smiled. "I am the doctor." He pulled Hermione's attention from the subpar space she occupied. The brown-haired man had a grin on his face. 

"Dr. Who?" Hermione questioned. 

"Exactly," came a blithe response, and Hermione furrowed her eyebrows. "I only jest. I am Healer Smith."

"Where am I?" Hermione asked. Had he said he was a healer? That was the second time someone had referred to the term healer. She felt anxiety rise further in her gut, speculating she may not be in a hospital at all.

"You're at St. Mungos, floor four, the long term residence ward." Healer Smith supplied. "Can you follow my finger with your eyes" and he slid his finger across Hermione's line of vision, back and forth, then up and down. "Hmm," he hummed, adding no additional color. Hermione noted that she had no knowledge of a hospital named St. Mungos. Her parents had mentioned a few, and she had visited one for her arm and a second when her grandfather had died, but never once had she heard the name St. Mungos. 

"Where is St. Mungos?" Hermione inquired. Her voice was raised, panic flowing through her tone. She noticed the slight look of surprise on the man's face. 

"What is the last thing you remember, Ms. Granger?" Healer Smith had a solemn, concerned look on his face that made Hermione a tad wary. 

"I... I was with my parents. We were eating dinner." Hermione closed her eyes and frowned somewhat. It was tough to recall her most recent memory. When she tried to identify how her previous day played out, her head and chest started to burn, causing her to wince and shut her eyes. "I had gotten a good grade, and we were celebrating with some ice cream... I think..." Her voice had quieted, but the panic was evident. 

"Does the word Hogwarts remind you of anything?" Healer Smith asked. He pulled out a wooden stick from his gown and waved it at Hermione's face. There were no wires attached; she was sure it held no power.

"No, it doesn't," Hermione stated, shaking her head.

"Thank you, Ms. Granger. You can relax. Healers Abbott and Bulstrode will be running some tests and giving you any necessary potions. I will be back in a moment." Healer Smith walked to the blonde-haired nurse and quietly spoke with her, pointing to a specific glass vial. 

"No!" Hermione demanded. "Tell me what is happening! Where am I?" She questioned. Her voice was raw with fear, and she could feel the anxiety overflowing in her gut. 

"Ms. Granger, it is alright. I will explain everything when I return. I just need to speak with someone, and I will be back momentarily." He had a polite, sad smile on his face as he slipped out of her curtain room, closing the gap behind him. His absence left Hermione alone with the two young nurses who had been assisting him. Both had been writing on their clipboards and fumbling with their own wooden sticks, which Hermione acknowledged were not standard issue medical equipment. 

"What is going on? Where am I?" Hermione challenged with a heightened voice. The pain in her body had dulled significantly since waking, and moving was becoming easier. She attempted to sit up further, but the broad, black-haired nurse pressed her shoulder to halt her progress.

"Drink this, please," the dark-haired woman commanded as she shoved a small glass bottle to Hermione's mouth. Hermione grimaced and drank the contents reluctantly. Her head immediately felt lighter, and her body grew tired. The broad-shouldered nurse supported her neck as Hermione felt herself falling backward to the bed, her eyes slipping shut into a dreamless sleep.


	3. The truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hi, lovies! 
> 
> here's chapter 3. I'm much further along with this story than my other, Vinculum Terrae. check that one out! it is much more in depth. 
> 
> as always, I don't own anything Harry Potter.
> 
> critiques and comment are greatly appreciated!

"Ah. Mr. Potter, you're here." Healer Smith greeted Harry as he raced to his wife's side just outside of Hermione's screens. 

"Gin floo'd me. Is she awake? Can I see her?" Harry was panting, his words were rushed. He was beating himself for not being there when she had woken, but the DMLE had needed him today. 

"I think we should step into my office to discuss if you wouldn't mind." The furrow to Healer Smith's brow caught Harry's notice. "This way," Healer Smith said as he stepped past Harry and Ginny toward the ward doors. 

"Gin, what's happened?" Harry questioned his spouse. His heart was pulsating; the last time a healer asked him to speak in their office, he learned his best friend was in a coma and that her parents had perished. 

"I don't know. 'Mione woke up, could barely open her eyes, and I went to get the Healers. They wouldn't let me back in. Come on." She slipped her hand into Harry's and pulled him toward the waiting Healer Smith. They trailed him into his office and sat slowly in the seats in front of the Healer's desk. 

Healer Smith sat down and straightened his robes for comfort. "Mr. Potter, I'll get straight to it. I believe Ms. Granger has lost a portion of her memory... a significant portion."

"What? Like amnesia?!" Harry blurted. 

"Yes, I believe that is the muggle term for it," Healer Smith acknowledged. "She indicated she has never heard of St. Mungos or Hogwarts. She looked at my wand as if I had 3 heads using a stick to treat her." He paused then, and Harry guessed it was to give himself and Ginny time to digest the news.

"She doesn't remember Hogwarts?" Ginny declaimed, but her voice was lacking. She had tears in her eyes, but Harry could see her trying to hold them back. "Then... she doesn't remember any of us?"

"Its hard to tell yet, Mrs. Potter, but for her safety and health, I believe it is best for both of you to not see her." 

Harry stood abruptly and thumped his hands on Healer Smith's desk. "Absolutely not!" Harry yelled. "I will see her before I leave this ward! She's been in a coma for months, and now you're telling me I can't see my sister? No!" His face was red with anger, and Ginny stood, putting a firm hand on his shoulder, attempting to pull him back down into his seat. Harry shrugged her off and resumed. "Why can't you just bring them back?! Just bring her memories back! Are you just incompetent? You're a trained Healer! Heal her!" 

"Harry..." Ginny attempted.

"Mr. Potter," Healer Smith began as he dropped Hermione's file down on his desk loudly. "I assure you we will do everything within our power to restore her memories, but it will take time. For her safety and sanity, I cannot allow you to see her." Healer Smith had a stern look on his face, his voice was stoic. "I understand your concern, but at this moment, what I say as her Healer goes. I've given her a dreamless sleep potion. I recommend you and your wife head home, and I will floo you with any further information." Obviously, being Harry Potter wasn't going to swing him any favors. 

Healer Smith stood and stepped to his door, "I will walk you out. Mrs. Potter, Healer Abbott will have your things." He pulled open the door symbolizing the two Potters should take their leave. 

As Harry passed, he turned to Healer Smith with a forlorn look on his face. "I'm sorry... I just... she doesn't deserve this. I just want my best friend back." 

Healer Smith placed a hand on Harry's shoulder and held a sympathetic smile on his face. "I understand. I will floo you as soon as we know more." 

Harry nodded and took hold of his wife's hand. With a gentle squeeze, they started walking toward the lobby. "It's okay, Harry. She's survived worse than this. She'll make it through. We'll make sure she does." He recognized Ginny was trying to console him, but her words did little to soothe the dread his stomach held from leaving his best friend, his sister, once again. 

* * *

Hermione woke again in the curtain chamber. She hadn't remembered falling asleep, nor did she recall any dreams, which was unusual for her overactive subconscious. Taking in her surroundings, she thought that it hadn't been a dream. Waking up in a makeshift room, attempting to pass as a hospital, had been real. There was no one in her curtain chamber, and she noticed it was dark, as if night had fallen. 

Just moments after awakening, someone came through the separation of her curtains in a flurry of motion. A small light in the corner gradually grew brighter until there was enough light to make out her new visitor. Motion sensor lights, Hermione thought. 

"Ms. Granger, hello. The charm alerted me you had woken. How do you feel?" the newcomer spoke.

"Charm?" Hermione inquired. 

"Yes. How are you feeling?" 

Hermione instinctively stretched the sleep from her body then. The pain that had been there when she woke up last was not as pronounced. She could wiggle her fingers and toes, but her head still had a painful pressure. "My head still hurts, but the rest feels better," she informed the nurse. 

"That is good to hear. My name is Healer Greengrass, or Daphne, whichever you prefer." The blue-eyed, blonde-haired nurse had a cheery smile, and it made Hermione uncomfortable. "I've alerted Healer Smith that you've woken. He should be here shortly. Are you hungry?" 

Hermione hadn't noticed it until it was brought to her attention, but she was rather famished. She nodded her head to the woman, who gave her another bright smile in return. 

"I'll have the kitchen bring something up. St. Mungos has the best food. Don't worry!" She left Hermione then with a flap of curtains. Everyone was so strange at this hospital. Hermione was increasingly convinced that where she laid wasn't a hospital after each interaction. Before Hermione had time to think further, nurse Greengrass swept through the curtains with a tray of food in her hands. 

"That was fast," Hermione said, astonished. 

"We have the best kitchen staff, Ms. Granger." The nurse beamed as Hermione sat up. "Here you go, meat pies and mash. Hope that will do," nurse Greengrass asked as she rested the tray down in front of Hermione. 

Hermione noticed beside the water glass sat a small vial of thick blue liquid that seemed to glisten a bit. She picked it up and sniffed it with a blanch. 

Laughing, nurse Greengrass stated, "it is pungent but effective. A bit of pain potion for your head. Start with it and wash the taste down with your food." She held a straight face as if the words she had just spoken were ordinary. 

"What is going on here?" Hermione questioned as she dropped the blue liquid vial back on her tray. "Is this a joke? What are potions, and where am I truly?" She was growing more and more agitated as time went on. The people here appeared to think all of this was natural, serving "potions," no walls, calling themselves healers in a makeshift hospital. 

"I promise you," the blond woman spoke as she sat a soft hand on top of Hermione's, meeting her eyes. "We are not trying to hurt you. Healer Smith will explain when he gets here. But you need to eat and take your potion to heal. Please trust that we have your best interests at heart." The Healer spoke, and it was the first time her face held a serious expression since she had entered the curtains. Hermione nodded and swallowed the blue liquid vial. The taste was horrendous, and she stuck her tongue out at the bitter flavor. The nurse laughed lightly and smiled, "now the food. It truly does help with the after taste." 

Hermione had to acknowledge that the food was exquisite. The nurse had been right about that, at least. She could feel the pounding in her head start to wane, but she didn't want to accept it had been the blue fluid that had done it. She must have just been so hungry she had given herself a headache. 

Before she could finish her meal, Healer Smith walked in, accompanied by an elderly woman who was wearing a dark gown and... it couldn't be a witch's hat, could it? "Ms. Granger, happy to see you're awake and have eaten. Healer Greengrass has taken good care of you, I presume?" Hermione nodded at his question as she pushed the tray further down her bed. "Wonderful. Please let me introduce you to the Headmaster of Hogwarts, Mrs. Minerva McGonagall." He indicated the white-haired woman alongside him, and she lifted her hand in a wave. 

"Nice to meet you..." Hermione supplied.

"It's my pleasure, dear," the elderly woman spoke with a sad expression on her face. 

"Nurse Greengrass said you would explain what is going on. Where am I? Why do you keep calling yourselves Healers?" Hermione's tone was clipped, but she had had enough. 

Pulling the two rickety chairs over closer to her bed, Hermione's two visitors sat, giving each other a glance she didn't understand. The brown-haired man turned and looked her in the eye, then spoke solemnly, "Ms. Granger, have you ever experienced unexplained phenomena, such as levitating or disappearing objects?" 

Hermione, shocked, sucked in a breath as her eyes widened somewhat. Her parents had advised her to never communicate with anyone about the circumstances she could make happen. Other kids couldn't do the things she could, and it would only make her stand out as more unusual. Had her parents sent her away? "Ms. Granger?" She heard and she remembered where she was. 

"Based on your facial expression, I will say you have. Headmaster, if you please." 

The white-haired woman in the witch's hat inched closer to her, and Hermione could feel the panic rising in herself again. Her parents had sent her away to some odd mental facility, she just knew it. And to top it off, she had no memory of the event. She must have lost her cognizance. Here she sat in a makeshift curtain room with a man in a lime green dress and a woman in a witch's hat. No sane individual could speak the same.

"Hermione," the aged woman addressed her, "I have had the enjoyment of telling you this once before, but you are a witch. The phenomenon you experienced as a child were cases of what we call accidental magic." 

Hermione laughed out loud then, all of this becoming more and more absurd. "This is ridiculous! Tell me where my parents have sent me!" At this, the elderly woman pulled out a wooden stick, and from the tip came a bundle of flowers. Then a quick swish of the staff and the flowers vanished. "I've gone 'round the bend..." Hermione breathed. 

"No, you've simply lost your memory. A generous portion of it." Healer Smith articulated. "What we will tell you may be upsetting, but you must know. You were admitted to a muggle hospital a little over two months ago after being in a serious vehicle collision. There was a significant injury to your head, and you had cuts and bruises covering your body. You underwent 5 hours of surgery but fell into a coma." Moisture sprang from Hermione's eyes as she listened to the man explain to her a list of events she could not fathom nor remember. Her brain was one of her points of pride; it couldn't be right that her mind had been damaged. 

"Ms. Granger, I hate to have to tell you this, as well, but unfortunately, your parents perished in the accident. They were in the front seat when your vehicle was hit." Healer Smith recounted to her with a grim voice. Hermione's eyes went wide, and she couldn't breathe. Her parents? They were dead? 

"No... impossible. You're lying..." She choked out through tears. 

The white-haired woman reached out to grasp her hand, "I'm so sorry, Hermione." 

Hermione jerked her hand back, yelling, "No! You're lying! I don't know who you people are! Stop lying to me!" She was sobbing, tears flowing uncontrolled down her cheeks. 

"I'm sorry, Ms. Granger..." Healer Smith implored. 

Hermione swiped at her left cheek to wipe tears away but felt something strange. She moved her fingers gently over her cheek, feeling uneven and rough skin, irritated by her touch. "I need to use the loo," she whispered, and both adults nodded. Daphne reentered her makeshift room, a somber expression on her face as she helped Hermione to the loo. 

What Hermione saw as she gazed at herself in the mirror she hadn't anticipated. From her hairline down the left side of her face was a scar, at least half an inch wide at the top. It thinned as it moved over her eyebrow, down her eye, and onto her cheek. She had an indentation on her chin and another scar running diagonally down her neck to her collar bone. Her skin was much paler than it's typical olive shade, save for the redness from her tears. Her cheeks were sunken, and her eyes looked dull and lifeless. 

Her hair had been cropped, and she could see the remnants of where her surgery had likely taken place. There was an L-shaped scar on her scalp that still looked puffy and red from inflammation. She trailed her fingers over it gently, and the new skin that had grown was bumpy and uneven to the touch. She was also much older than the last time she remembered looking at herself in the mirror. 

As she took in her appearance, tears began flowing more profoundly from her eyes. At the realization the two strangers had been telling the truth, she sank to the floor and sobbed. Her parents were dead and had been for months, apparently. Thinking of her lifeless parents made her ill, and she found herself retching in the toilet at the thought. She had no one. No friends, all of her family had passed, and now the world had stripped her of her parents, too. She retched anew as she heard the door unlatched. 

She registered that someone was stroking her back and whispering to her that it would be okay. That she had people who were here for her, but it only made her cry harder while she retched again. She knew no one. She had no one. Sitting back against the wall, she felt a cool cloth run against her face, still unable to truly recognize the goings-on around her. She felt herself be lifted from the floor and carried back into her curtain cage. She felt a vial lightly skim her bottom lip, then silky liquid flow down her throat. As she laid back, her lids grew heavy again. Tears continued falling from her eyes as she fell into a deep sleep. 


	4. Her next of kin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Friday, lovies!
> 
> Hope you enjoy. I'm having a really great time writing this fic. It is breaking up the monotony of quarantine, so I hope you are enjoying it.
> 
> TW: depression, survivors guilt, sadness
> 
> I promise this story is going to get fluffier but right now Hermione has no idea who she is, where she is, or why she is. its gonna take a while. Draco will make his appearance around chapter 7 - 8, if you were wondering. We've got to get our girl established first with some normalcy before he rocks her world.
> 
> As always, critiques, comments and feedback ate extremely appreciated. I can only get better from it!
> 
> As always, I don't own anything HP.

"You must eat your dinner and take your potions, Ms. Granger." Healer Abbot prodded her as Hermione picked at her food. "You haven't eaten in 2 days. You need to eat to heal." The Healer was begging her, Hermione knew. She also knew her body needed food to properly heal, but she hadn't been hungry. She couldn't bring herself to eat.

"The sooner you eat, the sooner you'll be able to get out of here." Healer Abbot intoned with a shrug of her shoulders as she left Hermione alone in her curtained chamber.

Hermione ate slowly, but little until her stomach was full and then washed down her meal with the plethora of potions Healer Smith had prescribed her. She could still feel the sickness in her stomach, but it wasn't physical pain. Her emotions were eating away at her at the loss of her parents. 

"Ms. Granger, how are you?" Healer Smith spoke as we walked through her curtain door. He had a bright smile on his face, clearly having slept enough between his shifts.

"Fine..." she was quiet. 

"I'm glad to see you have eaten." He flashed Hermione another bright smile, but it did little to cheer her. "We've got results from your testing. And the great news is, no magic alignments are targeting you." 

"And the bad news? My brain is stunted?" Hermione could hear the bite in her tone but she didn’t care.

"It's not bad news, per se. We'll be bringing in Healer Trisha Strout, a muggle-born Healer who specializes in muggle medicine."

“Muggle?” Hermione asked, confused. 

“Oh, yes, my apologies,” Healer Smith started. “A muggle is someone without magical ability. A muggle-born a reference to a witch or wizard born to two muggle parents. Healer Strout is a muggle-born witch who studied magical medicine and then muggle medicine. She's what they call a doctor. A doctor is...” 

"I'm aware of doctors, Healer Smith." Hermione said with a nod stopping him. 

At least he had the decency to look sheepish. "Of course. Healer Strout will be here early tomorrow morning to talk to you about a treatment plan. Our potion regimen doesn't seem to be working, so this is our best next step. Your magical core seems weak, but if you continue to rest and eat," he stressed the last word, "your strength should return. Potions can only do so much." 

He waited for Hermione to acknowledge his address, but she simply nodded. "Well, I'll leave you for the night. Healer Strout will be here with me tomorrow." He nodded, gave her a sad smile while vanishing her dinner plate, and left her alone. 

Hermione laid back in her bed as tears pricked at her eyes. Her heart felt heavy, and her mind mulled the guilt of surviving over and over. Her parents were dead, and she couldn't even remember their last evening together. Her mind raced over her parents' deaths until she cried herself to sleep for the 3rd night in a row.

* * *

Hermione woke before the sun the next morning but made no effort to move. The ward was quiet, and it allowed her more time to think. The thoughts, however, she was not interested in. She continued to tell herself she was dreaming; that she was still in a coma, and any moment she would wake up in a sterile white A&E to her parents' happy faces. But she woke each morning to drab red curtain walls that seemed to close in further every day. 

She laid still, crying for hours until she heard the ward doors open and slam shut. A commotion outside her curtain indicated her visitors' arrival, but she made no move to acknowledge them. 

Healer Smith and a short, thin woman with full-framed blue glasses walked in as the light in Hermione's space glittered to life slowly. "Miss Granger, can you wake up please?" She heard Healer Smith speak as he gently shook her shoulder.

Opening her eyes, she mumbled "been awake," as she turned on her back to sit. 

"Oh, wonderful. Ms. Granger, I have with me Healer Trisha Strout." He indicated the small woman to his right as Hermione rose to a seated position in her cot. The woman was incredibly petite, and her slender form was almost completely covered in a white doctor's jacket. Hermione noticed a bit of her bare legs showing from under the coat and imagined Healer Strout must be wearing a dress. She was a stark difference from the lime green, fully robed people she had been dealing with over the past few days. 

Healer Strout held out her hand to Hermione with a bright smile, "wonderful to meet you, Ms. Granger." Hermione shook the woman's hand and felt immediately self-conscious. She hadn't showered or brushed her teeth in days. She could feel that her hair was a rat's nest of curls sticking every which way, and she was sure her breath smelled. Hermione imagined her eyes were rimmed with black from tears and lack of real sleep.

"Yeah, wonderful," Hermione responded quietly. 

"How are you feeling today," Healer Smith asked. 

"Physically fine," Hermione responded, and both Healers nodded their heads with sympathy etched into the faces. 

"I'd like to start by saying what an honor it is to be helping the Hermione Granger. It is my pleasure." Healer Strout exclaimed with a broad smile on her face. 

"Your pleasure? My memory loss is your pleasure? My parents' deaths are your pleasure?" Hermione bit back, annoyance gracing her features.

"No… I just mean…" Healer Strout fumbled with her words. 

"Why don't we talk about a healing plan," Healer Smith injected, pulling Hermione's attention off Healer Strout long enough for the doctor to regain focus. 

"Right, yes, well. Ms. Granger, I've reviewed your case file, and I believe you have what we muggles refer to as retrograde amnesia. You've retained some memories from childhood, but your life as a witch has been locked away. For lack of a better term." Hermione nodded sharply, and the Healer continued. "We have very few remaining magical treatments we can try. However, I doubt they will work. Your best path to normal is regaining your strength and waiting for your memories to return naturally. There is little we can do to force them back." 

"And if they don't return?" Hermione asked. It had been a frequent thought in her mind since she learned she had lost 12 years of her memory. Her body had grown into womanhood, and Hermione had no idea who that woman was. She was 22, nearly 23, according to the Healers, but her mind felt fresh with the pains of a 10-year-old bullied at school. She had no idea who she was or what she stood for, and it pained her immensely. 

"That is a possibility, Ms. Granger. However, we will put you on a health plan for eating and regaining strength, and I will suggest some mental therapy, as well. The stronger your body becomes, the more likely your memory will return, and your magical core will strengthen. I do suggest either stay here at the hospital or find someone to stay with. I do not advise being alone for the time being. " 

"Okay…" Hermione muttered with a sad nod.

"That is, unfortunately, all I can provide, Ms. Granger. I know this is frustrating." Healer Strout said with a sad look on her face. 

"You have no idea…" Hermione hadn't meant it playfully. The Healers honestly had no idea how the loss of memory was affecting her psyche.

"Well, I shall take my leave. A&E never slows down. It was a ple… it was nice to meet you, Ms. Granger." Healer Strout stuck a hand out for Hermione, and she shook it lamely. The two Healers conferred for a moment, and then Healer Strout swept from Hermione's curtains in a tizzy. 

"Well, I suppose that's all for today, Ms. Granger. I can come back…"

"When will my parents be buried?" Hermione asked, cutting off Healer Smith's exit. 

"I believe they have been buried already. Your next of kin saw to it." 

"Who is that?" Hermione inquired. She hadn't a clue who could be listed as her kin. The death of her parents left her as the sole member of the Granger family. Both her parents and her parents' parents had been only children, like her. She grew up with no cousins and hardly any friends, so her mind was blank when she thought of a living and healthy relative. The thought brought tears to her eyes anew. 

"His name is Harry Potter, Ms. Granger. I am led to believe the two of you are very close. He and his wife never left your side during your coma."

Tears slid down her cheeks at the thought of having such a loyal friend she couldn't remember, Hermione demanded, "I… want to meet him." 

"Of course, I will have him here tomorrow." Healer Smith nodded.

"I'd… like to bathe before." Hermione whispered. 

"Of course, I will have Healer Greengrass help you tonight. I'll send Healer Abbot in with breakfast shortly." He gave Hermione a firm nod and left her room. 

True to his word, Healer Abbot had supplied breakfast followed shortly by lunch and her daily positions. Hermione picked and ate little. Her appetite had faded again after the problematic realizations of her day. She spent most of her free time lying awake, eyes staring at nothing, crying as she tried to recall her past years. Healer Greengrass came in before bed and helped Hermione to the washrooms. The feel of water on her skin helped, but the general relaxation a bath typically provided alluded her. 

She laid awake into the night, moving little other than to wipe at her nose and eyes as she cried. She thought of her parents and the few happy memories she could recall with them. A heavy feeling of guilt settled in her stomach, and the pain of loss gripped her heart. For the fourth night in a row, she cried herself to sleep.

* * *

Healer Abbot came early the next morning with a large plate of breakfast and a fresh round of potions. She sat quietly while Hermione ate, then helped her to the loo to freshen up before meeting the man known as Harry Potter. A man who she had once known well enough to list kinship with. 

"Harry is a wonderful person," Healer Abbot told her as she settled Hermione into a seated position in her cot. 

"You know him?" Hermione asked.

"Oh, yes. We went to school together… all of us." Healer Abbot noted with a sad smile on her face. 

"...you and I?" 

"Were friends once." 

"I… I'm sorry I don't…" 

Healer Abbot grasped Hermione's hand and gave it a firm squeeze. "You do not need to apologize. This is hard enough on you as it is. Don't fret over me." She had a sweet smile on her face, and it brought tears to Hermione's eyes again. With a sharp nod, Healer Abbot rose as Healer Smith entered the room. 

"Good morning, Ms. Granger!" It almost sounded as though he sang. Healer Smith was clearly in a high spirited mood this morning. 

"Good morning," Hermione responded. 

"Mr. Potter is here to meet you, are you ready?"

"As I'll ever be, I suppose." 

"Wonderful. Give me a moment, and I will send him in." Healer Smith stated as he left her curtains. 

A moment later, a tall, crazy-haired man walked through the door. Thin frame glasses sat high on his nose in front of the greenest eyes she had ever seen. Hermione thought she could see the fear shimmer within the depths. His skin was tan, and his smile was bright. He had a faded scar on his forehead that almost resembled a lightning bolt. He was wearing a simple pair of worn-out jeans with a black jumper. She sighed to herself, glad that someone in robes, as she was told to call them, hadn't shown up. 

He spoke briefly with Healer Abbot, who gave him a hug in parting. He pulled one of the rickety chairs closer to Hermione's bed and, for the first time, met her eyes as he sat. 

"Hey, 'Mione," he spoke quietly. 

"Hello…" Hermione responded. She wasn't necessarily sure how she should act.

"It's really good to see you..." He seemed to sag in relief as he spoke. 

"Thank you…" Hermione started. "For taking care of my parents' burials…" Tears formed in her eyes, and Harry reached out to grab her hand. When she pulled it away from him, his face fell slightly. 

"Sorry…" he whispered. 

"Your name is Harry?" She questioned and noticed his eyes widened slightly. She assumed with shock at her complete lack of recognition. 

"Yeah, Harry James Potter." He stuck his hand out slowly, "nice to meet you…" he sounded sad, but Hermione accepted his handshake willingly.

"Same…"

"A bit awkward, huh?" Harry shrugged as he let out a small laugh. "Loads more awkward than the first time we met." 

"I wouldn't know…" 

"Right…" Harry scratched the back of his head, a timid look on his face. "It was on the Hogwarts Express." He started, and Hermione noted his face grew a bit happier when she seemed to perk up at his words. "You barged into mine and Ron's compartment asking after another boy's toad he'd lost." Harry laughed wholeheartedly this time.

Hermione felt her eyes grow a bit wider. "A toad?" She questioned. 

"Yeah, a toad. A pretty big one actually by the time he ran off to the lake. Neville constantly lost him. Trevor, the toad, that's his name, was never where he was supposed to be." Harry laughed again, and the sound was almost nostalgic for Hermione.

"Toad... Did many kids have toads?" She said quizzically.

"Loads. It's one of the few familiars Hogwarts allows. You had a cat. Downright hideous thing." 

"Hey!" Hermione barked, and Harry laughed. 

"Defending him no matter what," he supplied. 

"I'm sure he was a fine cat." 

"A terror, he was." He cracked a broad smile, "but he was brilliant." 

"Was? Is he…"

Harry nodded again, and Hermione sighed in sadness. She didn't even have an animal to go home to. A frown graced her features again, thinking of the loneliness she felt. 

"Healer Smith said you and your wife had visited?" Harry nodded. "Who is your wife?" 

A sappy grin grew across his face. Hermione could see the love radiating from it. "Her name is Ginny. She's so wonderful. A strong woman. Loves your godson and me to death, regardless of how dumb I can be." 

"Godson?" Hermione breathed as her eyes shined a bit with happiness. She was a godparent? 

"Yeah, 'Mione. Your godson. My firstborn, James. Named after my dad. He's the love of my life. Until his brother is born. Then they'll have to share." His face held a proud aura about it. The broad smile he had almost made Hermione feel truly happy. 

"I'd like to meet them," Hermione supplied. 

"Of course, 'Mione. Ginny's been up the wall not being able to come and see you since you woke." He laughed, and Hermione nodded. 

"Is 'Mione my nickname?" Hermione questioned.

"Oh… uh, yeah… some of us call you that." 

"I'm sorry, but I'm not sure I like it." She felt awful for saying it as Harry's face fell, but she didn't like nicknames. Her parents had met during university in an ancient Greek history class. They spent time together and had fallen quickly in love while they worked on an assignment on the story of Troy. Thus they had named their own daughter after the stories that had brought them together. Hearing that someone had shortened her meaningful name down saddened her, especially now that her parents had passed.

"Oh… okay. Yeah, sure. I understand." He fumbled with his words. 

"Why'd you bring me here? Healer Smith said I was taken to a hospital first. Why move me to this shabby place?" Hermione questioned.

"Well… you're a witch." He said it like it was the solution to everything and she frowned a bit. "We spoke to the Healers and they said it was possible for you to use magic while in your coma. So for everyone's safety, we brought you here… Muggles don't know about magic, so it would have been a bit of a surprise." He laughed slightly. "Plus, Gin and I can get here faster…" 

Hermione supposed it made sense. If she were magical, and things just started floating in her hospital room, someone might have tried to exorcise her. 

The two talked a bit more about Hogwarts. Harry told Hermione about a man named Ron, his wife's brother, who they had also been close friends with. He more than her in fairness, he had admitted. Apparently, Harry's wife's family was rather large. He rattled no less than ten names, all related to her, as he spoke.

Harry told Hermione she was the top of their class at Hogwarts, and it brought the first genuinely happy smile to her face in days. He told her she had gotten top marks in all of their classes, except 1, potions, where she had been second. It pleased her to know that she had given her everything to schooling, and it had paid off, even if she couldn't remember. 

After another hour of conversation, Healer Smith padded back into the room with a bright smile on his face. "And how are we doing in here?" He questioned cheerily. 

"Doing well," Harry responded. "I suppose I should take my leave. DMLE can't seem to manage without me these days…" 

"Harry…" Hermione spoke, and he turned to her with a smile. "Will you bring Ginny 'round? I'd like to meet her." 

"Yeah, 'Mio… Hermione. I will. Tomorrow good?" He asked both occupants in the room. At their nods, he rose. "Tomorrow then." He smiled at Hermione with a nod of his head. 

"Thank you for doing this…" she whispered. 

"I'd do anything for you, Hermione." He spoke so seriously it almost made her cry again. Harry shook Healer Smith's hand, and with one final wave to Hermione, he left. 

"I take it your time went well?" Healer Smith asked. 

"Yeah… it did." Hermione had a soft smile on her face, but her heart was battling her. She wanted to curl up and cry again, thinking about the desolation of her family tree. But spending a few hours with Harry had given her a bit of hope. A hope that she had people around her who would be there for her regardless. Even though the death of her parents was still so fresh, she felt comforted in the fact that Harry and his wife seemed to genuinely care for her. 

"I am happy to hear. Mind if I run a few tests?" Hermione shook her head, and Healer Smith pulled out his wand, the correct term the wooden sticks everyone possessed, and waved it a few times at her. "Everything is looking well, Ms. Granger. Excellent news. Healer Abbot will be here in a bit with lunch. Try to eat a bit more, but you could be ready to leave here in a few days."

Hermione nodded but couldn't bring any joy forward at the prospect of leaving. She hadn't a clue where she would go. She didn't know if her parents' house had been sold or if she had a home of her own. Healer Smith was prattling on about more tests, but Hermione wasn't listening. She nodded her head, but her thoughts were elsewhere. 

After a larger than normal effort at lunch and dinner, Hermione laid down to go to sleep for the first night without crying.

* * *

True to his word, Harry showed up after breakfast the next day with a very pregnant wife and his young son James. The three adults spent hours talking while passing around the fussy child. Harry and Ginny told Hermione about their history; how they had split a few times but eventually got back together for good after school had ended. Their story seemed like the perfect young love story: a girl falls in love with her brother's best friend, they get married and live happily ever after. It often happened, Hermione supposed. 

They talked about a game called Quidditch. Apparently, Ginny was a professional Chaser for one of the teams, but Hermione couldn't remember which one. Hermione admitted to her visitors after 20 or so minutes that she was already not a fan, to a roar of laughter. She had never really been a fan of sports, and this one seemed highly dangerous. They explained she had always hated Quidditch, and she was glad she didn't have to at least pretend to care. 

Harry told her he was an Auror, similar to a muggle policeman. Hermione thought that preposterous. He seemed too happy to be in law enforcement. He said it had always been a dream of his to step up and help stop the evil before it could wreak havoc on the magical world. Hermione thought him even nobler for his efforts. 

At the end of his second visit, Harry promised to visit every morning until she could be released. And he did just that. He came with gifts on the fourth day in the form of a book, Hogwarts, a History. He explained that it had been her favorite book and she had carried it around wherever she went. When he left that day, she had made herself comfortable and devoured the book in one sitting. She had been so thoroughly enthralled in the book, she had eaten her whole plate of dinner without complaint. 

On the fifth morning, Harry entered her makeshift room with Healer Smith. 

"Good morning, Ms. Granger," Healer Smith said with a happy grin on his face. 

"Good morning, Healer Smith. Harry." She gave them a small smile. 

"Ms. Granger, I've conferred with the Healers here and Healer Strout. We believe you've regained enough strength that we can release you, on the condition you will not live by yourself." He held his smile, and Hermione could feel happiness rising, It was short lived, as a sadness hit her a moment later when she realized she had no one to turn to for residence. 

"I don't know where I can stay where I won't be alone, other than here…" she said quietly. 

"Well 'Mio...sorry, Hermione," Harry began. "I know you don't remember me truly, but Gin and I are more than willing to have you stay with us. If you're interested, that is." 

"You'd let me stay with you?" Hermione said with surprise in her voice.

"For as long as you need, and longer. You're my best friend, and I'd do damn near anything for you." Harry rubbed the back of his neck with a lopsided smile. "Sorry… Gin told me not to come on too strong."

Hermione laughed at his embarrassed look. "That is very nice of you, Harry. I wouldn't want to impose, however." 

"It's no imposition." He smiled cheerily at Hermione, and she could swear she felt another wave of nostalgia. 

"...alright. That would be great. Thank you…" she nodded her head once as she swung her legs off the side of the bed. "I can't thank you enough..."

"Well, great then!" Healer Smith clapped Harry on the back, interrupting him as he started to speak. "I'll send Healer Abbot in with your discharge instructions. Floo travel only, Mr. Potter. Apparition could be too difficult on her brain for a while." Harry nodded and gave Healer Smith a handshake. 

"Ms. Granger, it's been nice to have you, but I'm much happier to send you home." Healer Smith held out his hand to Hermione, and she accepted with a shake. 

"Thank you, Healer Smith." 

It took 30 minutes to review her discharge instructions with Healer Abbot, whose name Hermione learned then was Hannah. She was given an eating schedule and plan, a weekly supply of potions, and she was scheduled for weekly follow-ups for the next two months. With a parting note of no alcohol during treatment, Healer Abbot walked Hermione and Harry to the floo, which to Hermione's confusion was a simple fireplace. Taking Hermione's hand, Harry pulled her into the large fireplace, a pile of powder in his free hand. As he dropped it, green fire lit around them, and Hermione realized her life wouldn't be the same.


	5. Just a glimpse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, lovies! this chapter is a bit longer than the normal chapters in RG. It's a fairly important chapter and revolves around memories. I'd love your feedback. Do you expect memories in italics ? Do you mind the way I've written it here? I've got another chapter coming up which will be significantly memory heavy so i want to make sure I'm writing how you love.
> 
> I've read through the next 4 - 5 chapters of this story and I surprisingly love it. i can't wait to share it! but I won't increase posting frequency until I've completely finished. and honestly it just keeps coming when I'm writing... so...
> 
> as always, no owning over HP here. and feedback is appreciated.

It took a week for Hermione to get comfortable enough to wander her new dwelling. It felt strange, initially, being in an unfamiliar home, littered with magical enchantments she knew little about. So she had holed herself away in her room, a room which Harry made clear had been hers in the past and would be hers to use for however long she liked. He had warmed her heart somewhat when he hugged her tightly before leaving her room the first night. She could feel the admiration radiating on his face, relieved to have his friend home. But it also made her undeniably blue. 

The first several days she slept, stirring only to consume the meals Ginny brought and use the loo. She sobbed herself to sleep most nights, reflecting on the desolation of her lineage and the death of her parents. Her emotions had been utterly turbulent, fluctuating from resentment of her memory loss, sadness at the unfamiliarity of her being, and devastation at thoughts of aging without her parents.

On her seventh day in the Potter residence, she decided a shower was needed. The water tumbling down her face combined with the tears she shed at her image. She had never genuinely bothered over how she looked, but her sheared scalp held heavy on her heart. Hermione had kept her hair lengthy as an homage to her grandmother, who loved her unruly curls. Her hair had grown an inch thanks to the topical elixir Ginny had obtained, but the length still made her cry anew as she washed. 

The scar across her face was still red and irritated but had dulled significantly after daily salve applications. The healers told her they would likely not be able to rid her of it completely, as they hadn't begun treatment quickly enough. But she could learn to hide it with a charm. 

Today was her weekly checkup; whether she wanted to or not, she had to dress and leave her solitude chamber. The walk down to the kitchens had been long and tedious. Grimmauld, as Ginny called it, was a monstrous home, much larger than three people required. Hermione passed door after door of barred rooms as she descended the three flights of stairs, wondering why they needed or fancied such empty spaces.

As she approached the swinging door into the kitchen, she heard murmurs behind but couldn't make out the words. She heard Harry's voice as he addressed an unfamiliar female. Ginny had taken James to her parent's home, so Hermione furrowed her brow, confusion falling over her as she thought of who may be accompanying Harry.

They continued to chat, whispering Hermione assumed, and she grew uneasy. She pushed through the door, and Harry, along with an older woman, gawked at her in shock, their conversation dying immediately. They both held anxious looks on their faces, and Hermione knew instantly that they had been speaking about her. About what, though, she couldn't decipher. 

"Hey, Hermione!" Harry exclaimed as he stood awkwardly and gave her a hug. Hermione accepted it, but apprehension still plunged in her gut. 

"Hermione, this is Andromeda, and her grandson, my godson, Teddy." The elderly woman waved softly to Hermione. She noticed a small child scribbling with crayons, shading in what resembled a unicorn. She smiled to herself that even wizards and witches believed in such things. 

The aged woman rose gradually, and Hermione felt feeble in comparison. She was tall, beautiful, and had a bright smile as she extended her hand out for Hermione to shake. She held an air of regalness Hermione hadn't experienced before, possibly only seeing a similar aura from the Royal Family. Her robes were immaculate, a soft shade of sky blue with silk fabric. Her warm dusty brown hair was pulled into a tight bun that called attention to her porcelain skin. 

"Dear, it is nice to meet you," the woman greeted as Hermione shook her hand. 

"Teddy. Come introduce yourself to Ms. Hermione," she tutted at the small boy. 

"Gran, I know her!" He bemoaned, and Hermione actually laughed. 

"I know, dear, but she doesn't know you." 

"Now, Ted," Harry lectured in a stern tone, and the boy huffed and set his crayons down. Hermione watched as his hair changed from a shade of black that looked like Harry's to a brilliant shade of bright blue. Her eyes widened as he hopped off the bench and approached her. 

"Hi, I'm Teddy," he spoke with the most insolent tone a 5-year-old could muster, and Harry scowled at him. "S'nice to meet you," he said as he stuck his hand out. Hermione grasped it and gave it a shake. 

"Hello, Teddy. I like your hair," Hermione greeted.

He nodded and climbed back up onto the bench to resume his coloring. Harry shook his head with a snort. "We're working on that one."

"He can change his hair color?" Hermione asked the two adults. 

"He is what we call a Metamorphmagus. Just like my daughter, his mother. He can change his appearance at will. Still too young to control it. The hair has a will of its own." The little boy's grandmother spoke. Her face carried a smile, but her eyes looked troubled. 

"Are his parents here?" Hermione questioned, and she noticed the adults grow quiet, solemn looks slipping over their faces. 

"They're dead," the young boy uttered, and it jarred Hermione to her core. She felt grief well inside her as a fresh wave of despondency from her parent's deaths washed over her. 

"I'm sorry… I didn't know," Hermione frowned as tears pricked at her eyes. She saw Andromeda's face drop in despair, and Hermione assumed the elderly woman's wound was just as fresh as her own. Her daughter had passed recently, judging by the age of the little blue-haired boy coloring at the table. She must feel just as misplaced as she did, Hermione thought. 

"Dear, you do not apologize." Andromeda reached out a hand and grasped Hermione's with a gentle squeeze. "The pain will grow less every day…" the older woman turned and scolded the young boy for his brashness.

"Harry, I have my checkup today at noon…" Hermione whispered. 

"It sounds like we should take our leave. Teddy," Andromeda spoke with a sternness Hermione found familiar.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt," Hermione offered.

"Nothing of the sort. We were done visiting anyhow. Dear, it was lovely to meet you again. I am here if you need me," she addressed Hermione with a parting handshake and instructed the young boy to do the same. 

"Harry, think on what I've said," were her parting words to the frizzy-haired man standing next to Hermione. The two guests made their way to the fireplace, leaving in a blaze of green flames. 

"I'm sorry, Harry. I didn't mean to interrupt." Hermione furrowed her brow slightly as she spoke. 

"It's really alright, 'Mione." He smiled, and she wrinkled her nose inappreciably. "Sorry… Hermione. I'll get better at that." 

They ate a quick lunch before floo'ing to St. Mungos. They waited quietly next to one another in the 4th-floor waiting room until Healer Smith arrived to greet them with his customary bright smile. 

"Ms. Granger, Mr. Potter. Good to see you!" He spoke as he shook both of their hands. "Follow me to my office?" The two nodded and trailed the Healer into his office.

"How have you been, Ms. Granger?" Healer Smith questioned as they took their chairs.

"Fine," she said in a monotone voice. 

"Good. Do you still have a headache?"

"Not really. It's been better."

"Well, that is great! Small positives are big positives, Ms. Granger." A bright smile grew across the Healer's face, and Hermione nodded again. 

"Have any of your memories returned?" Hermione shook her head. "Well, it is still early. Any queasiness from your potions?"

"Just because of the taste," she answered as she wrinkled her nose. Harry chuckled next to her, and she smiled somewhat at his response.

"Excellent. Just a few tests, and we can let you head home," Healer Smith smiled and pulled his wand. She felt the magic tingle her skin as he scanned her vitals, examined her head, and then her sternum. 

"Well, Ms. Granger, no movement on your core, but your brain is much less inflamed, so the potions are doing their job. We'll send you home with another round and plan to see you here next week," Healer Smith said brightly. 

Hermione was trying honestly to keep up spirits. She didn't want to be depressed all the time. But the more Healer Smith spoke with his bright demeanor, the deeper she desired to crawl back into her borrowed bed. He closed Hermione's record and made to stand, but Harry spoke and paused his action. 

"Healer Smith, I was wondering if I could show Hermione some of my memories," Harry inquired, and Hermione's eyes went wide. What did he mean "show some of my memories"? She held her breath while Healer Smith pondered the question, her heart beating faster as his silence seemed to linger over them. 

"I don't see how that could hurt, Mr. Potter, if you can perform the spellwork. But you must have a sanctioned Pensieve." 

"Of course, sir. I can get one," Harry nodded, and Hermione's confusion only grew. 

"Then I think it is a swell idea. Do it this week if you can, before our next appointment. We can see if this will help you heal Ms. Granger. Same time next week then?" The Healer led them out, but Hermione could only nod as she passed, falling in step next to Harry as they made for the floo.

"I can… see your memories?" Hermione queried quietly, a bewildered look on her face. Harry slowed to a stop and turned to her with a small grin. 

"Yeah… I didn't want to suggest it before talking with the Healers. But I can show you my memories using a Pensieve. The only one I know of is at Hogwarts, though. I'm sure Minerva will let us use it."

"What… What do you mean? How does it work?" Hermione rambled, still bewildered.

"Well, I basically copy my memory, and you can view it… sort of reliving it, I guess? You can see what I saw. I can get you a book on it… I don't know all that much about it." Harry looked a bit sheepish as he rubbed the back of his head. 

"Harry, that would be wonderful! I… I'm really looking forward to this." Happiness coursed through her, a bright smile decorating her face for what felt like the first time in ages. She was going to see the memories she had lost. She was going to see what her life had been like in the magical world. What she had looked like as a child running the halls of Hogwarts, casting spells, brewing potions. She was over the moon. 

"Yeah, Hermione. I'm happy to do it," Harry smiled as Hermione enveloped him in a crushing hug before floo'ing home.

That night she couldn't sleep; she felt so energized. Harry had owled the Headmaster of Hogwarts, and the woman who told her she was a witch, Minerva McGonagall. The Headmaster had replied quickly that it would be her honor to allow Harry and Hermione to use the Hogwarts Pensieve. She proposed the two stop by in two days when students were on their Hogsmeade trip. Harry had then explained what Hogsmead was, filling Hermione in on their journeys to buy candy and restock parchment with their classmates. 

Part of what kept her up that night was a small book. The Headmaster had provided a book, at Harry's request, that gave Hermione a thorough description of the inner workings of the Pensieve. 

According to history, Penseives were especially personal types of magic. A wizard or witch could reproduce their memory and collect them within their Pensieve, making the artifact a deeply intimate belonging. The book spoke about how most Penseives were generally buried with their owner, similar to wands. She imagined the memories currently residing in Hogwarts' Pensieve. It must contain centuries of adventures of Hogwarts headmasters and professors. The thought gave her butterflies. 

A rap came on her door Saturday morning, but she was wide awake. Two days had dragged on in monotony, her thoughts whizzing over having access to her youthful memories. Her enthusiasm had woken her before the sun, hardly having slept the night prior. She had showered and dressed by the time the sun rose above the skyline. Throwing open the door, she saw Harry, dressed in a simple jumper and jeans. 

"Hey," he smiled. "Want to go grab some breakfast before we head over?" 

"Yeah, breakfast sounds great," Hermione agreed. 

"Why don't we go to the Leaky?" 

"The Leaky?" 

"Yeah," Harry grinned. "A total dive, but we used to go all the time. That's where we would meet to shop for our yearly school supplies." 

"Oh, that sounds great, Harry. Thank you!" Hermione was delighted to see another site that could jog her subconsciousness. If she genuinely had spent considerable time in this establishment, maybe visiting would bring a glimpse of what made her, her. 

They used the floo, and Hermione's eyebrow rose in mystery as her soles landed in a dark, dingy dining room that held an air of hospitality. The smell of savory breakfast filled her nose as she gathered her bearings. The dining room was relatively empty, save for a few men that sat in the corner silently consuming their meals. A toothless man behind the bar waved at them, and Harry flashed a bright smile back. She could see the warmness the pub offered, but she couldn't envision herself spending countless hours here. 

"Full English, Tom, for both of us," Harry requested as he guided Hermione to a comfy table in the corner. "A lot to take in, I know," he stated as they sat down, "but it is a great place, really. There's an inn upstairs, and wizards from all over visit and stay. It's a great place for a quick pint, too. We used to come over after work." 

"Work?" She asked. "I guess I hadn't even thought of a job…" 

"Guess I could have told you, huh?" He smiled sheepishly at her, and she smirked a bit. "You work at the Ministry. You're actually fighting to modernize the Hogwarts curriculum." 

"What? Truly?" She breathed. Her heart jumped at the sound of an ideal career.

"Yeah, 'Mione, you were doing great things! I mean, Hermione. And you are. You are doing great things. Not were. Sorry," he grimaced a bit. 

"Harry, it's fine," Hermione said. 

They made polite chatter while they ate the meals Tom the barkeep had delivered. Harry told her more about Hogwarts and why she had been trying to update the curriculum. Apparently, they had been teaching the same, antiquated knowledge since before the 1900s. She couldn't fathom. No one in at least a century had made an effort to update the education system? No wonder she had been working to improve standards. And working hard, it sounded, by how Harry explained it. 

Harry also told her about the entrances to both the magical and non-magical worlds that split the pub. He filled her in on how the inn had been open since before the 1500s and had hardly changed. It was a staple in the wizarding world and held dignitaries from all over the globe.

"Where is the entrance in London?" she questioned.

"Oh, off of Charing Cross Road. The entrance can only be seen by witches and wizards. Muggles see a dilapidated building. Elegant magic, really." 

"Charing Cross Road?" Harry nodded in acknowledgment. "I used to go with my parents to a coffee shop there. I wouldn't get coffee, of course, but they let me eat sweets when we went…" 

"I bet you liked that. I know they didn't let you eat sweets often," Harry said with a sad smile. 

"Do you think we could go? Maybe grab a coffee?"

Harry looked pensive as he spoke, "Uh… I don't know. We're due at Hogwarts soon." 

"Oh… sure." Hermione felt her heart throb somewhat at the missed opportunity. She had hoped to find some semblance of normalcy, whether that was visiting an old coffee shop that she and her parents had patronized or else.

"Ready to head over?" Harry urged as he set his napkin on his plate. She quietly nodded her response, trying not to be ungrateful.

Harry dropped a few coins on the table, and they made their way to the floo. "Minerva is letting us floo right to her office. We won't have to walk the grounds." 

"Oh? We're not walking the grounds?" Hermione breathed. She felt more significant disappointment fall into her gut. She had desperately craved seeing the rolling hills that Hogwarts, a History had spoken about. The sprawling windows of the Great Hall that moved and glittered in the sun. The shifting ceiling and the house points hourglasses. She felt herself frown somewhat as awareness fell over her that she may not get to see any of it. 

"No, it's easier just to floo to her office. That okay?" Harry asked though he seemed hesitant. 

"I had hoped to see the grounds a bit. Maybe after?" 

"Uh… yeah, maybe after."

When their feet landed in a marble hearth, Harry stretched an arm out to steady her. Hermione took a moment to take in the sprawling stone around her as she brushed soot from her jumper. A large, embellished wooden desk that occupied the middle of the orbicular chamber sat in front of a staircase that led to a bookcase paneled loft. Portraits filled the walls, and she noticed they were moving. A black-haired, crooked nose man gazed down at the two of them and rolled his eyes, at which Harry laughed. Light permeated the area from various windows, and the rays danced off delicate silver gadgets scattered throughout the room. 

Before she had a chance to fully appreciate her surroundings, Headmaster McGonaggal swept into the chamber. She had a bright smile on her face as she approached, giving Harry a firm hug and patting Hermione softly on the shoulder. 

"It's wonderful to see you both. Hermione, I am glad you are well," she said with a sincere tone. Hermione simply nodded. It wouldn't do to try and explain how turbulent her emotions were. "Can I get you two some tea?" 

"Thank you, Minvera, but I think we'll just get right to it," Harry said thoughtfully, and the aging witch nodded and made her way to a glass cupboard. As she opened the doors, a stone column slid out, and Hermione observed the intricate carvings surrounding it. The Headmaster pulled a delicate silver vessel from the opening in the pillar and pushed it toward Harry. 

"Please, take as long as you need. I will be down at Hogsmeade, so slot the dish back when you are done. And Harry, please think about what I said." She sounded stern like a professor should. 

"Of course. I will," Harry returned with a furrow on his features. 

"Thank you so much for this, and the book," Hermione added, and the woman gave her a faint smile. 

"Anything for you, dear," the Headmaster spoke as she patted Hermione's cheek and made her exit. 

"Ready?" Harry asked, pulling Hermione's attention to where he stood. He held a vial of shining silver wisps that seemed to sparkle. "The memories," he said, holding the bottle up to her. "You know, I used to shove my whole head in this thing," he laughed brightly. "Turns out, you can just stick a finger in, and it works just the same." They laughed together as Harry unstoppered the vial, pouring the wisps in a slow, mercury-like fashion. 

"It's a bit jarring at first," Harry warned her. "But you'll get used to it." He held out his hand to her, and she took it hesitantly. He shifted their joined hands over the dish and gave her a stern look. "Ready?" he asked, and she inhaled deeply, nodding. 

She knew what to expect, the book had been vivid. But it was nothing compared to the actual feeling. It felt like falling in a dream. That type of falling that right before you land to your death, you jerk from your sleep. But no jerking occurred. She landed, feet solid on the ground of what looked like a train. She saw a red-haired boy and young Harry relaxing in a compartment. She couldn't hear what they were saying; no sound befalling her other than a shifting of magic. But they laughed and carried on while shoving sweets in their faces, making it obvious they were happy. 

Moments later, her younger self appeared in the compartment doorway, and her breath caught. Her younger self sat, introducing herself with a confidence she didn't know she had, and it nearly brought Hermione to tears. Her younger self looked so peaceful, so comfortable, and she imagined she was just happy to be in a world where other people understand her. A realm where she wouldn't be made fun of for her peculiarities.

When her younger self drew out her wand, Hermione gasped. The wood was a beautiful chestnut color, and wooden vines coiled tightly along the entire surface. Harry had mentioned her wand, but she hadn't seen it for herself. Regarding it now took her breath away.

Her younger self cast a spell, and the crack in young Harry's glasses sewed itself. She felt a surge of pride at being able to cast a spell, even before properly studying magic. 

The following several memories drifted by in haste. Hermione watched herself be sorted into Gryffindor and reeled at the bright smile her younger self held as she sat at the table in the Great Hall. She saw herself, Harry, and the young ginger boy, likely Ginny's brother, in the library studying and then relaxing in what looked like a cozy sitting room trimmed in red. 

She saw herself run into the Great Hall and give Harry a long hug as a giant man walked in behind her to applause. She noticed the black-haired man from the portrait sitting next to Headmaster McGonagall at the head of the room. The Headmaster sat beside an elderly white-haired wizard who had a cheery smile on his face. 

She watched herself hold out an orange, smoosh-faced feline to Harry and Ron, both of whom held uneasy expressions as she showed them her familiar.

Memories shifted, and she saw herself and Harry with a gaggle of red-heads all dressed in green. They were in an extravagant looking stadium, and Hermione assumed they had attended a Quidditch match. As a firework leprechaun danced in the sky and people on fire danced on the ground below, she gasped at the magnificence of magic. 

Everyone seemed so happy, so peaceful. Hermione watched the crowd erupt in applause as the Irish team won, and then everyone fawned over the team's players as they presented a trophy within their box. They had had a rowdy celebration afterward, two older ginger boys popping what looked like magical confetti.

The fog over the memory shifted again, and she watched as beautiful girls dressed in blue danced through the great hall. They were followed quickly by stout looking boys in cold climate attire. She watched as a beautiful goblet with a blue fire spat out miniature pieces of parchment. Students cheered when 3 older students stood as their names apparently were read. She saw Harry stand, as well, and everyone gawk before the memory shifted quickly. 

The next she knew, she was watching Harry flying on a broom, an actual dragon hunting behind him, and she gasped. She heard the real Harry chuckle next to her, and she turned to him. He was watching her intently with a tight smile on his face. 

She watched a celebration in the sitting room, where she, Harry, and Ron seemed to spend a lot of their time. The next memory was dark, and she saw as scally creatures with the tails of fish swum by, and she exhaled pointedly. 

"Mermaids?" She asked breathlessly, and Harry chuckled.

"They're quite mean," Harry chortled as she watched herself be hauled off by a body of a man with a shark's head, disappearing from the memory as it dissolved. 

As the memory slowed, becoming more lucid, she observed her younger self walking down a magnificent set of marble stairs in a gorgeous periwinkle dress. She thought she had never seen herself look so beautiful. Her hair was gathered on top of her head in loose curls, and she had a bright smile on her face. 

The younger Harry had an awestruck look on his face as he gaped at her. Tears fell from Hermione's eyes as her younger self descended the staircase, the elderly quidditch player bowing and presenting his hand as they met. She swore she could feel the smile radiating off of her younger self. 

"You looked stunning that night. No one could take their eyes off you," she heard the real Harry whisper, but she was too enthralled to respond. 

She watched as she and Harry took the dance floor with their dates underneath icicles more massive than trees hanging from the ceiling overhead. Soft snow fell, disappearing before settling on anyone's shoulders. At the head of the room was an enormous Christmas tree, flanked by two smaller, all of which sparkled in the low light. As the memory progressed, she watched happily as the students danced and laughed together, as a band played, and as students filed from the room. 

"Why weren't you dancing?" she whispered. 

"He and I didn't really go with who we wanted to," Harry laughed as he pointed at Ron and himself sitting pouting.

The memories moved along, and she observed her and Harry walking with a group of friends down a long wooden bridge. She saw herself in classes, brewing potions, and casting a silvery blue otter from the tip of her wand as her younger self smiled brightly. She gazed on as she opened presents with the group of red-heads as Harry gave a scraggly looking brown-haired man a hug. She saw them dancing in a tent, it looked like they were camping. Then she saw herself huddled next to him as they stared down at his parent's graves. 

She turned to him with a sad smile. "I didn't know." 

"I know, I didn't want to upset you…" he shrugged, and she grasped his bicep with a squeeze. 

Time seemed to skip forward, and she saw herself sitting in the Leaky, a pint in her hand, and the grown ginger man's arm around her as they laughed. She saw herself and Harry meet at a coffee cart in a large, emerald room with a plethora of people traversing about. 

Everything died away in a foggy mess as she was drawn back into the real world. Tears were slipping down her face, and she knew for the first time in weeks that they weren't from sadness. She wiped them away and gave Harry a watery grin. 

"We were so happy," she whispered, and Harry furrowed his brow somewhat. He appeared perturbed by her statement but composed his face quickly. 

"Yeah… we were happy," Harry said solemnly as he put a hand on her shoulder. 

"Thank you, Harry. Truly. Thank you for showing me this," she wept and gave him a big hug. 

"You're so welcome, Hermione…" he whispered to her as she cried into his shoulder. 

She was so overwhelmed she hardly noticed as Harry returned the Pensieve to its stone bed and shifted her toward the floo. She sat in silence most of the day, thinking over all the memories that Harry had shown her. She had had such a happy life. Hermione was so thrilled she finally found somewhere where she fit in. It took a lot for her to not cry happy tears as she, Ginny, and Harry watched television that night. She couldn't help the smile that graced her features when Harry bid her goodnight. She didn't sleep that night, but it wasn't from sadness.


	6. A Significant Other

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi lovies!
> 
> I know I JUST said last week that I was loving this story, but I hate this chapter haha. I hope you don't! 
> 
> Also out favorite bad boy is going to make his appearance next chapter. :)
> 
> I don't own HP in any way. 
> 
> thank you for reading!!!

Hermione floated throughout the remainder of the weekend, the lingering feeling of happiness helping her through the monotonous hours of helping Ginny with James, cooking dinners, and watching the tele with Potters. She could hardly process everything she had seen. Dragons, potions, magic, her wand. It was all so surreal. So surreal, she fell into paranoia more than once, thinking she indeed was still lying comatose in some hospital just waiting to wake up to a standard, muggle life. 

She talked to Harry about the loss of his parents Monday night, bringing her to silent tears. He told her his parents had died when he was a baby, after which he went to live with his aunt and uncle until his admittance to Hogwarts. She could tell he had grown up roughly and felt a sense of estrangement from his blood family, leaving him alone - much the same as her. 

It had made her feel somewhat guilty. She sulked alone most days, but here sat Harry who had lost his parents, too, trying so graciously to help her through her troubled times. Shouldering his losses and hers. Helping her through her pain as he continued to work through his own. 

That evening her thoughts shifted as she reflected over the memories Harry had shown her, and their conversation, as melancholy creeping in. The longer, more profoundly, she mused over the memories, the more her anxiety grew. The more she realized she still didn't know herself.

Tuesday morning, she found herself silently pushing eggs around her plate as she and Harry ate breakfast. They dined in silence for a while before she spoke, trying her utmost not to seem ungrateful.

"Harry, did I keep journals?" She questioned quietly, a thoughtful appearance on her face. 

"Not to my knowledge. Why? What's up?" He asked, a pensive smile on his features. 

"Seeing those memories was great, Harry, truly, but I… just don't know how I felt. How I perceived situations. What I believed in. Why I wanted to restructure curriculums. I still feel so lost. Like I don't know myself."

"Yeah, I understand," he held a sad smile on his face. 

"I feel so guilty. You've done so much for me, and I keep asking for more…" 

"You don't need to feel guilty," he said firmly. "You ask for anything you need to process this." He laid a soothing hand on top of hers with a rueful smile. 

"What about my wand?" she asked calmly. 

She watched Harry recoil somewhat as he finished his food. "I… I have it," he said hesitantly. 

"Can I? I'd like to start practicing magic," she proposed. Hermione had been reminiscing about her wand since the second she saw it in Harry's memories. What it would be like to hold it again. What it would be like to cast a spell and know her own magic.

"Oh, uh… sure. I can get it for you. It's in my vault at Gringotts." 

"In your vault? At.. where?" she questioned, an eyebrow hoisted at him. 

"Gringotts, it's a bank. You can store valuable items there. I wanted to uh…" he trailed off somewhat, his eyes darting across his bare plate. "To make sure it was safe while you were in your coma," he nodded. 

"Oh, sure…"

"I'll get it tomorrow after I get off, okay?" Harry expressed, and Hermione nodded. 

"Do you have any books I can borrow?" she inquired as Harry rose to clear their plates.

"Books?" he echoed, and he started to look pale. 

"Maybe textbooks? Or books that I can use to learn spells? I'd really like to practice." 

"Uh… yeah. I'll have Gin put some in your room," he gave her a dazzling smile, but his brow was still furrowed somewhat. His behavior was strange. He appeared paranoid. Short. Like there was something he needed to say but didn't know how. Hermione shrugged it off as the pressures his life weighing him down. 

"Thank you, Harry. You've done so much for me," she said earnestly. 

"I'd…"

"I know, do anything for me," she chuckled as she finished his sentence. 

"I gotta head to work. See you later?"

"Yeah…" she nodded. 

He didn't come home that night, she didn't see him at all on Wednesday. As Thursday morning rolled around, she realized she'd likely not see him that day either. Ginny said he had been summoned on urgent fieldwork and presumably wouldn't be home for days more. 

Her sentiments sank as she imagined of her wand barred away in his vault, but a more intense sensation of guilt crept in as she thought of how busy he was. How he had to provide for his family, and for her. How self-centered she was that an inconvenience of a few days without her wand made her cross. 

The floo roared to life around 11:00 a.m. Thursday morning, pulling Hermione from her thoughts as she sat noiselessly on the couch. An older ginger woman emerged through the green flames and quickly enveloped Hermione in a firm hug. She imagined she should feel uncomfortable, but something about the woman made her feel protected. It took her a moment, but she knew the woman. This was Ginny's mother, Molly. 

"Oh, dear girl!" The woman cried. "It is so good to see you." 

Hermione nodded as the woman leaned back, her hands tight on Hermione's biceps in protection. "You're Molly, yes?" She asked gently as Molly's eyes trailed over her body, inspecting her for wear. Hermione noticed the woman's eyes linger on her left forearm for a long second before she yielded a beaming smile and met Hermione's eyes anew. 

"Oh, dear. Oh, yes. Where are my manners?" She released Hermione then and backed up, sweeping soot off of and straightening her apron. "Molly Weasley, dear." She held out her hand and Hermione accepted it. "I am sorry, I was just so happy to see you, sweetie." 

"It's fine, ma'am," Hermione said, trying to muster a laugh. 

"Mum, hey. You're early," Ginny uttered as she waddled around the corner, a weeping James in her arms. 

"Give me that child, girl! You shouldn't be lifting him," Molly tutted to her daughter, who rolled her eyes in answer. 

"Would you rather I levitate him?" She snapped, and Molly chuckled, scooping the small son into her arms. 

They made pleasant conversation for a while, reacquainting with one another, hearing stories of their shared time at the Burrow. Their trips to Diagon Alley for school supplies and the summers she spent with the Weasley. Molly demanded Hermione to attend a Sunday dinner at the Burrow that weekend, and Hermione tried her best to be pleased with the proposal. But her spirits were on fire at the idea. She wished she could explain why, but something inside her was decidedly trying to steer her away. 

Ginny eventually succeeded in extracting herself and Hermione from her mother's clutches when James began to wail anew. Hermione was nearly late for her weekly Healer appointment by the time the two women tossed handfuls of floo powder into the fireplace. She'd likely be overdue checking in as Ginny could barely walk quicker than a waddle. Hermione chuckled to herself at the thought. 

"Sorry about mum," Ginny stated as their feet settled on the stone hearth of St. Mungos. "I didn't mean to surprise you like that." 

Hermione smiled somewhat and nodded her head. 'It's fine, Ginny. She was charming."

Ginny prattled on about her family as they casually strolled through the infirmary, attempting to explain all of her nieces and nephews. She said that the Burrow was her family homestead, and the entire troupe regularly assembled for dinners and Quidditch on Sundays. They would play pickup games while Molly prepared dinner. At Hermione's upraised eyebrow, Ginny laughed brightly, revealing that she typically took up residence under a tree or before the fire to read, depending on the weather. 

"What do you think of having dinner with Ron tomorrow night?" Ginny proposed as they wandered. Hermione hadn't been paying attention, her mind straying as the discussion dragged on. But she noticed as Ginny quit speaking and gave her an enthusiastic stare. 

"I'm sorry, Gin, what?" she asked, embarrassment decorating her features.

"Dinner? With Ron? What do you think?" Ginny gave Hermione a bright smile as she reiterated herself. 

"Oh, uh…" Hermione stammered. 

"I know he's sort of a git, but he's mad without seeing you," Ginny replied. 

"Gin, were he and I… dating?" Hermione questioned as they finally sat down in the 4th-floor waiting room. She had noticed some visions in Harry's memories that lead her to assume she and Ron had been romantically inclined. And she didn't want to go in blind. 

"Well… you guys have sort of been... on and off for a long time. Right before your... accident, you guys had just moved in with one another."

"Oh… wow." Hermione breathed. 

"Please don't feel any pressure. If you're not ready, I'll tell him to bugger off."

"No, I… I think it's fine. I would like to meet him," Hermione countered. "We're best friends, after all, right?" She tried to smile, but she believed it appeared more like a grimace. 

Knowing that someone considered her as their significant other, someone she had only superficial recollections of, made her feel nauseous. She didn't even recognize the man. Sure they had been friends in school, and she had observed that, but she didn't know his mind. Didn't know his soul. She didn't remember his mannerism, and hell, she didn't even know his middle name. 

"Brilliant!" Ginny grinned. "I'll owl him when we get home. Hopefully, Harry will be back, too. He said he would but chasing those death… dark wizards can take ages sometimes." 

She watched as Ginny's face crumpled into a frown, her eyes turning forward away from her. Hermione hadn't missed her backtrack after the word death. Perhaps Ginny was striving to not perturb her by speaking of loss. For that, she was appreciative.

Her visit with Healer Smith went reasonably typical. No memories returned, no movement on strengthening her core, but her brain swelling had diminished. That indicated she could take fewer potions moving forward, and the three had shared a laugh at her blithe response to the news. 

Harry didn't show that night, and the swirl of anger and guilt built anew in Hermione's gut. She had gotten it in her mind that she would hold her wand that night. That she would feel magic again. She acknowledged Harry was busy with work, but she couldn't stop her disappointment. Watching Harry and Ginny as they cast spells had left a yearning in her heart, and she believed perhaps it was her core craving to be utilized. 

Harry returned late into the day Friday, seeming somewhat invigorated for someone who had recently spent days tracking down bad guys. He had a radiant smile on his features as he greeted Ginny, kissing James on the crown of his head while he stroked her belly affectionately. 

"Hey, Harry," Hermione greeted as he stepped toward her. 

"Hey!" He said with a lively smile. "Sorry I've been A.W.O.L. recently, but we had a bit of unexpected fieldwork." 

"Gin told me. Did it go well?" she questioned, and he nodded. 

"Yeah, it went well," was all he provided, and she tried not to grimace. 

"Did you… did you possibly have a chance to get my wand?" Hermione sought, and she saw his face drop somewhat. 

"Oh, Hermione, I'm sorry. I, uh… I didn't have time. I'll get it Monday. The bank is closed on weekends." 

"I understand, Harry. I didn't think you had had time, but I thought I would ask," Hermione said with a smile, but she felt anguish in her gut. She wanted to scream, but instead, she inhaled deeply and trailed the Potter's into the kitchen. 

Harry and Ginny spent the following few hours preparing dinner. Harry told Hermione stories of her, himself, and Ron from school while he worked. How she had improved Ron's wand work in classes, them studying together, being in dueling clubs, and visiting a man nicknamed Hagrid. It sounded like they had been inseparable. They had simply fallen in love naturally, organically, as they matured. 

She excused herself sometime about seven to bathe and change. Her supposed significant other would be there at eight, and she wanted time to calm her thoughts. To collect herself. To process everything Harry had placed on her mind. 

As she showered, she reminisced of her parents and how greatly she missed them. She wondered if they knew Ron. If they liked him. She permitted herself to cry for the first time in days, and it felt like a burden lifted from her chest. As she walked to her room, she heard the floo roar to life, and a raucous voice reverberated in greeting. 

"He's here then…" she sighed as she tracked to her wardrobe. Electing for a simple cardigan and jeans, she dressed slowly. She didn't genuinely care what she looked like; her emotion so turbulent, her mind not letting any apprehension of her appearance settle in. She took one last longing look at herself in the mirror, grimacing at her scars, and headed down the stairs. 

"'Mione!' A lanky, shaggy-haired ginger man shouted as she stepped through the kitchen door. He encircled his arms around her, pinning hers to her body as he heaved her feet off the ground. Alarm rose in her as a feeling of entrapment enveloped her, his arms restraining her from moving. From forcing him off. From escaping. She hadn't known she possessed this fear, but panic rose instantly as she tried to struggle free from him. 

"Ronald!" Ginny shouted as he placed Hermione down, but he didn't move away. He held a hand on her bicep, and her body quaked somewhat. It felt as though her heart was attempting to run away, but she didn't know why. 

Sure he had come on a tad strong, but he didn't seem scary. He looked like a puppy. Like he couldn't harm a fly. She attempted to push her unease away, to give him a chance, but it proved worthless. The longer his hand seized her, the more uncomfortable show grew.

"What, Gin?" He asked dumbly. 

"Give her space, mate," Harry answered as he reentered the room, running a hand through towel-dried hair. He had evidently followed Hermione's lead to freshen up.

"Oh, it's just me. 'Mione knows me, don't you?" He urged, giving her a pompous smile as he leaned into her, his hand tightening on her gradually. 

"No…" she said stiffly as she attempted to establish some distance between them, his arm dropping limply at her words. Her heart rate relaxed, and the dread in her body faded the further apart she moved. 

"Come on, 'Mione. It's me, Ron. You've gotta remember me." 

"If I don't remember myself, why would I remember you?" She snapped, her brow furrowing as her lips pulled into a thin line. "Excuse me, I need to…" but she didn't conclude her sentence as she drove out of the kitchen and made for her room.

A faint knock rapped on her door a minute later, and Harry cracked it, a concerned expression to his features. "You alright, Hermione?" 

"Sorry, Harry," she spoke, tears springing down her face. "I don't know what's wrong." He made his way to her bed, squatting next to her. He set an arm about her shoulder, tugging her into his side tightly. It didn't feel overwhelming. His presence seemed to calm her body instinctively, a stark contrast from her reaction to the orange-haired fellow downstairs. 

"You don't have to apologize," he said softly. "If it makes you feel better, Gin is downstairs having a go at him," he snickered, and Hermione followed suit, letting out a watery chuckle. "If it's too much, I'll tell him to leave." 

"No… no, I'm fine. I've just… been trying so hard to be strong…" 

"I know…" he punctuated with a squeeze of her shoulder. 

They sat silently together while her tears calmed. Harry leaned his head against hers, and she felt her heart warm. It was clear her body knew who she genuinely connected with. Harry was the one that had comforted her in the past, undoubtedly. As she dried her eyes, Harry asked if she wanted to head back downstairs, to which she took a deep breath and nodded. 

"'Mion… Hermione, I'm sorry," Ron said, rubbing the back of his neck as they reentered the kitchen. She could tell he was striving to appear apologetic, but his face told a different story. As though he didn't mind that his actions had upset her. 

"Thank you, Ron," she said stiffly as she dropped into the seat across from him. He scowled somewhat, but she resolved to ignore it as Harry sat beside him. 

Their meal went by slowly as tension rose from deep inside her. Ron talked about himself nearly every time he opened his mouth. But it wasn't meaningful. He spoke about his money and his possessions as if they ruled his life. As if all he cared about were the things he could buy and flaunt. She tried questioning him about his favorite school topic or his favorite book, and he waved her off, changing the subject to Quidditch.

He brought up her parents in offhanded pity, and her grip tightened on her silverware. He didn't have a hint of remorse in his voice at her plight, and he somehow succeeded in making their deaths an event that solely concerned him.

She felt heat grow in her palm the longer she sat stiffly, and she abandoned the silverware to the table, seeing crackles of light around her fingertips. Magic, she mused to herself, shocked. No one seemed to notice, or if they did, they didn't care.

She neglected the rest of the conversation, which Ron had brought back to Quidditch, as she examined her fingers. She tried to focus, tried to make the magic come back, but nothing happened. It made her cross, not being able to innately summon the magic she held within. 

"Hermione, can I talk to you a second?" Ron asked with a commanding voice that made her ears hurt, pulling her out of her thoughts somewhile later. She noticed Ginny flick her wand to clear the table and realized she had fallen into her subconscious for quite some time. 

All she did was nod as she stood, walking into the sitting room to await him. He sauntered through the door to her with a shameful grin on his face. Like he hadn't sat through the same nerve-wracking supper she had. 

"What do you say you come over to our place and make us dinner?" He asked haughtily as he approached her.

"I don't think so," she replied with a bite in her tone, but he didn't seem to notice. He stalked toward her predatorily and invaded her space as her heart tried to flee its cage. 

"It will be great. We'll have a great time. What about tomorrow? You'll get to see the place and maybe want to move back in, ya never know." He stepped in a bit closer to her and gripped her arm somewhat tightly. He had a smug look on his face, and it made her want to scream.

"No!" She shouted as she shoved his hand away from her. "I don't know you! Stop acting like I do! Stop acting like we're together. I would never be with someone like you! Self-centered arse!" She pushed him away, rather harshly, but she didn't care. He had invaded her space. Invalidated her struggles. How she could date someone like this, much less be his friend, baffled her. 

Harry rushed into the room as she ascended the stairs, a concerned look on his face as he watched her leave. She heard him address Ron before she slammed her door shut, falling into her bed and crying frustrated furious tears.


	7. A Mysterious Malfoy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hi lovies! I'm testing out posting earlier in the week.
> 
> DRACO APPEARS! (If not evident by the title.)
> 
> enjoy. :) things get a bit darker after this chapter for a while but it does get lovey eventually.
> 
> I do not own anything HP. comments and critiques always appreciated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi lovies! I'm testing out posting earlier in the week.
> 
> DRACO APPEARS! (If not evident by the title.)
> 
> enjoy. :) things get a bit darker after this chapter for a while but it does get lovey eventually.
> 
> I do not own anything HP. comments and critiques always appreciated.

"Happy birthday, Hermione!" The chorus of voices about the Leaky Cauldron sang out. George marched toward her with a broad grin and a freshly baked cake, two candles ornamenting the top. One in the shape of 2 and the other a 3. Each candle discharged tiny fireworks from their color-shifting flames that made little popping noises. 

"Made these just for you, Smalls," George beamed as he placed the cake in front of her. "Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes specialty." His grin was infectious, and she felt the shell of a smile grow over her features.

"Thank you, George, they are very cool. Are you selling them?" She questioned him.

"Thinking about it!" he said with a bright smile. 

"Come on, 'Mione. Blow them out!" It was Ron that drew her from the moment. He was slurping on his third pint and was becoming a touch too boisterous for Hermione's comfort. She didn't honestly desire to see him after their last interaction. Nevertheless, there he stood, a superficial smirk on his features that only served to aggravate her further. 

She inhaled deeply and puffed out the candles. As they flickered, they trumpeted a final miniature firework that spelled out "Happy Birthday, Smalls" and then extinguished themselves. 

"Oh, George, that was wonderful! You better sell these!" She smiled at him, and he grinned ear to nub.

"Yes, ma'am. Your wish, my command! Cheers!" And the rest of the group joined in, clinking their glasses and mugs collectively in celebration of her.

As she gazed about the room some while later, emotion swirling, she eyed all the wizards and witches who had come to celebrate her. 

Arthur, the Weasley patriarch, sat animatedly describing the gift he had given Hermione, a new electric weed trimmer. Two individuals to which she had been introduced, Kingsley Shacklebolt, current Minister of Magic, and the giant Hagrid sat nodding along as Arthur's hands waved this way and that. They both held livelily, inebriated smiles as they snickered over Arthur's joyous renditions. 

Minerva, who had greeted her with a warm hug, was howling loudly with Molly and Andromeda over who knows what, ignoring the men they sat with. They all had dazzling smiles, seething happiness as they sipped their pints.

The two oldest Weasley children occupied a table in the corner nestled beside their wives, each taking long pulls from their pints. They had left their children at home, so Hermione had been told. They were all sipping quite profoundly to commemorate their freedom. But they remained primarily to themselves, catching up.

Luna, a blonde-head, blue-eyed beauty, squatted on the floor in the corner, reading a rather unusual magazine. Hermione had found her odd, at first, but the longer the night dragged on, the more she envied the girl. She stayed to herself, and no one seemed to worry her. Hermione sighed at the thought, finding herself wishing she could merely read the magazine. The _first_ wizarding magazine she had seen since waking. 

The table at which she sat, shifting cake around her plate, held a slew of her mates from Hogwarts. George and his girlfriend, Angelina, were dishing out the cake with cheerful smiles. The three had become quick friends when Hermione had moved back into her parent's home a little over a month ago. Ginny had given birth to Albus, and out of respect, Hermione felt her time of imposition had come to an end in Grimmauld. 

Molly had assigned George and Angelina to assist the move into her new, yet old home, having discovered the explosive episode with Ron. 

George was a talker, and Hermione appreciated that. It was nice to have someone fill the space with conversation while she could merely listen. He had told her about the shops he owned, joke shops that had become a quick hit in Hogsmeade and Diagon Alley. Told her that he and Angelina had both been on the Gryffindor Quidditch team back at Hogwarts. 

When she questioned after his twin, who she recalled from Harry's memories, both of her counterparts fell quiet, sadness etching itself into their eyes. The trio spent hours mulling over tea that night, talking about Fred and her parents' passing that night. They had ended the night in slow, long sobs. 

Hermione noted the seven people in their lives that had perished. More people than she had been reintroduced to at that time. George's response of _"we had a rough couple of years"_ with an equally distressed expression did nothing to soothe her. 

Healer Abbott, Hannah, laughed loudly and pulled Hermione from her thoughts. She slipped her arm around her boyfriend, Neville, as he bellowed a joke. Neville had had a good chuckle when they were reintroduced, Hermione recognizing him as the _boy with the toad._ He declared he had been called worse as he handed her a sack of sweets from Honeydukes.

Ginny and Harry laughed along at whatever conversation Hermione was ignoring, holding their sons in their arms. Ginny looked exhausted, but her smile was so warm. The hug she had given Hermione at the floo had nearly taken her breath. She pleaded with Hermione to visit soon so she could have a woman to talk to. They had shared a laugh, suggesting a gathering for later the next week. 

They all conversed about times at Hogwarts, sharing memories with her, but she couldn't bring herself to appreciate it. Months had gone by, and still, not a memory had returned. Every Healer appointment was the same, and she left cross each time. Mad at herself for inability. Angry at Harry for inaction. Irate at the world for stunting her.

"Oi! There they are!" Ron bellowed as he hung an arm around Neville for support. 

"We've been here, mate," Neville replied, and everyone sniggered. As though Ron's behavior was acceptable. He was right and truly pissed, and the night had hardly begun, or so she had been told. 

"It's been too long!" He slurred somewhat as he dropped gracelessly into the chair opposite Hermione. 

"Ya, mate, I agree," Harry said, tipping his pint glass slightly toward his mate.

"To the Order!" Ron roared as he hoisted his nearly empty pint into the air. 

Hermione watched the group grow quiet, Harry's eyes locking to Ron in shock. Ginny glanced between her and Ron, and Hermione thought she had a moment of fear on her features.

"Ron, why don't we get a drink, mate?" Neville urged quietly as he stood, pulling Ron with him. 

The air around the table felt stale in their absence, and anxiety grew in Hermione's stomach. It felt just like every conversation she walked in on that halted at her appearance. Like the sidelong glances that people gave her, and everyone's strange fascination with her arms. The whispered arguments in Grimmauld she overheard and the lack of access to worldly information.

"What's the order?" She demanded, and she could hear the accusation in her pitch. 

"Oh, it's nothing," Ginny laughed awkwardly. 

"Just something we used to call our group in school. In dueling club." Harry added with a nod.

Hermione watched George's expression out of the corner of her eye. He and Angelina looked troubled. Mouths set like the craved to say something, but seconds ticked by, and they remained mute. 

"Right," she punctuated with a fake smile. 

The conversation started to flow a little at her response, Harry telling anecdotes of Albus and James. Hermione excused herself somewhile later, taking a moment to collect herself in the loo. When she reentered the dining room, she sought a quiet corner and simply observed. 

"Bit overwhelming?" George vocalized from beside, frightening her. He laughed softly and nudged her with his elbow. "I've got a habit of creeping up on people. Ask Harry." 

"I was just so…"

"Zonked." 

"Yeah, it's a bit much…" 

"Doc said it would be good for you," George countered. He had taken over her Healer appointment duties while Harry tended to Ginny and his children. 

"I know, I just… I feel guilty. They're not here."

"I know, Smalls. It gets easier… not quickly, but it does." George put an arm around her shoulder and hugged her tight as Harry strolled up to greet them. He held a long, thin box in his hand. 

"Hey, Hermione, can we talk?" he said brightly. 

"Of course, Harry. How is Albus?" she questioned with a smile as George bid his farewell. 

She had been considerably upset with Harry, truth be told. It had been weeks since she had requested her wand, and he had yet to retrieve it from his vault. She felt torn between guilt and resentment, knowing his wife had recently given birth. But she couldn't help her rage. She had requested newspapers or magazines, books… anything that Harry could provide her with, and he hadn't yielded her those either. No one had.

"Oh, he's brilliant. Sleeps like a champ! A total difference from James, who won't sleep now until he's in Albus' room. But he's sleeping all night now!" 

"That's wonderful, Harry." 

"Sorry, I've been so busy," he apologized. 

"It's fine, Harry. George has been excellent company," she offered, and he nodded. 

"I've got something for you," he pronounced as he held out the package to her. It was wrapped neatly in a deep red paper and adorned with a golden bow. Her eyes grew round, gazing down into the box as she cracked it open. It was her wand. The elegant, chestnut vine wrapped wooden artifact that she missed more than she genuinely realized. 

She felt a pulsing race through her body as her hand slipped around the hilt, mouth falling open in a small gasp. Her body seemed to prickle with anticipation and excitement, and her chest seized. She recognized the area from her scans. She assumed her core was trying to hum its thanks at the feel of magic pulsating within it once more. 

"Thank you, Harry," she breathed, torn between excitement and irritation. 

"Yeah, of course, Hermione. Anything for you," he said happily, and it did prove to make her a tad more irate. He hadn't apologized for taking so long. Like there was nothing amiss with him holding onto her wand for months. Her personal property. 

"Harry!" Ginny shouted from the opposite side of the building. She had annoyance written on her features and a retching baby in her arms.

"Duty calls. Happy birthday, Hermione," Harry chuckled as he patted her arm. Her temper grew a fraction more as he winked and marched away. Was he genuinely using her birthday as a way to _gift_ her with her own property? The property he should have returned the moment she woke up?

Ron sauntered over at that moment and sloshed a bit of beer on her exposed toes. He came to a halt beside her, slinging his arm around her shoulder. 

"'ar she is!" Ron cried, and Hermione furrowed her brow. She extracted herself skillfully but discovered her body confined between a window and the pissed red-head, shielding her from the rest of the party. He held a foolish look on his face as he dipped into her, spilling a tad more liquid on her toes. 

"Ron, please back up," she instructed in a firm tone, but he shuffled in closer. 

"I like your hair like this 'Mione," Ron garbled, seeking to grasp out and touch her hair. The hair she hated. The hair she wished would grow faster. Hermione tugged her head to the side out of his line of destruction with a frown.

"I hate it." 

"It's like a new 'Mione," he beamed. 

"I don't want to be a new Hermione. I want to know the real me." 

Ron tried to step into her space again, but she held up a steady hand to stop him. 

"Please, Ron. Just give me some space," Hermione declared resolutely. The fluid currently flowing down the sole of her foot tipping the scales of her wrath. 

"Merlin, 'Mione. Just accept it. We're all here for ya. Just move on. Come back 'ome," He slurred, making it obvious he was beyond pissed. He attempted to pull her into a hug, but Hermione shoved him roughly. He stumbled back into a table, his face falling downward with fury as the red tinge on his cheeks intensified. The bar around them began to quiet as the inhabitants watched on.

"Just get over it?! You want me to just get over it?!" Hermione heard herself yelling, but she didn't think it was harsh enough to accurately express the fury that had spread in her. The pub went silent as she belted out her next lines. "My _parents_ died, Ronald. _I_ almost died. I have _no_ notion as to who I am, and none of you are helping fill in the blanks. _How dare you_?!" 

She shouldered past him, knocking him off-kilter again, as she made a b-line for the door that traversed out into muggle London. Exploding outside, she huffed on her rage as she stomped down the street. She had no thought of where she was going, but she couldn't linger in that pub any longer. Where the whispers were louder than the conversations. Where the fleeting glances made her stomach churn.

"Get over it? _Just get over it_? Fool. He's an _idiot_!" She shrieked the last part, spinning around to shout at the door rather than herself. In her carelessness, she smacked into a tall, lean man strolling past her on the street.

"Bloody hell, woman," the blonde man drawled as he bent to collect the bags she had beaten from his hands. "Pay attention, you bint!" Hermione twirled to face him, a retort on her lips when he uttered again. "Granger?" He breathed quietly. 

"Oh, just great. Another person who knows me. What? Are we friends?" She bit out in a fury, her voice still quivering. 

The blonde man howled a laugh, "No, Granger, we were never friends. Enemies, more like it." He sounded bitter, but it didn't stop her.

"Oh. Even better! Someone I'm supposed to despise without any evidence as to why!" She was shouting at him, but he didn't appear to mind. His eyebrows ticked up slightly at her words, but his face was passive. 

"There are an excess of reasons why," he remarked. 

"None that I know of!" She barked at him and saw a touch of shock register on his features.

"Oi, Malfoy. Get away from her!" Hermione thrashed her head toward the newcomer only to find Ron had stalked her outside. 

"Go away, Ron! Can't you take a very blatant hint!" She was so enraged that the tips of her fingers were crackling with magic again. She could feel the same fire growing on her palms as the last time she had been compelled to deal with the red-head before her. She felt a hand drop onto her shoulder, and her eyes followed the lines of the muscular arm to the blonde, now identified as Malfoy.

"Relax. You're going to hurt yourself," Malfoy said, pointing toward the magic burns beginning to form on the fabric of her skirt. 

"Let go of her, Malfoy!" Ron roared as he tracked toward the two. 

"Stay away from me, Ron! He is helping with my magic! That's more than _any_ of you have done!" 

"Weasel, you heard her. Back away," Malfoy drawled with venom, his voice so close to Hermione's ear sent a shiver down her spine.

"Fuck off, Malfoy," Ron snarled. 

"She very obviously isn't in control. As much as I would genuinely like to see her murder you, I don't want her to hurt me more." Malfoy spoke so dignifiedly that he almost sounded uninterested.

"'Mione, come back inside," Ron demanded as he froze in his tracks, eyeing her fingers.

"What have you lot been doing? Evidently not teaching her proper control. Pathetic." Malfoy spoke to Ron but was gazing at her. He seemed concerned as he squeezed her shoulder somewhat; she imagined to try and soothe her. 

"Exactly!" Hermione exploded. "Thank you!" She flung her hands into the air, and static magic crackled around her. "I will not come back inside so you all can placate me with more lies!" 

"Last warning, Malfoy," Ron said as he withdrew his wand.

"No, _Ronald_ , this is your last warning. Leave. Me. Alone!" Hermione snarled.

"Fine!" Ron snapped. "You want to be left alone with this ferret Death Eater, by all means!" 

"Good! I'd rather be with him than a room full of deceivers who treat me as though I'm a child." She was still seething as she turned to her new ally Malfoy. "Take me someplace?" 

"What?!" Ron shrieked, and a smirk stretched across Malfoy's lips as he stared down into her eyes. She felt warmth rise in her gut at the look on his face. 

"Happy to, Granger," Malfoy drawled, and another chill traveled down her spine as he held out his arm to her. 

He shot a devilish glower at Ron, whose face was as red as his hair. Ron dashed toward their spot as Hermione slid her hand into the curve of the mysterious Malfoy's proffered arm. Within a moment, they were whirling on the spot.


	8. A Revelation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't want to make you all wait! so I'm posting 2x this week. I'm a few chapters ahead on this story, so I can afford it. 
> 
> my other story though. :( 
> 
> I hope you enjoy this. Keep in mind she has no idea who he is. has never been exposed to him before, that she knows of. but he has 10+ years of history with her.
> 
> Also not canon complaint and we'll get to that in a few chapters.
> 
> as always I don't own HP.
> 
> comments and critiques / suggestions are appreciated.

"Ugh," Hermione groaned as her feet landed on plush carpet. 

"If you retch, you're cleaning it," Malfoy monotoned as he dropped her arm, leaving her standing in the middle of a sitting room as he walked down the hallway to their right.

"That's so unpleasant," Hermione groaned from behind the hand covering her mouth. It did nothing to stop her nausea, and she knew it. Eyes closed, she focused on her breathing to work through the pounding in her head and stomach. She thought he must have just appirated them. Why anyone would choose to travel that way, she hadn't a clue. 

Breathing deeply, she opened her eyes on an exhale. The sitting room she gazed upon was bright, even though it was well past 10 p.m. The light coming from a floor lamp that had what appeared to be a snake slithering along the shaft. Eyes of emerald glittered as the light bounced off of them. 

The floors were carpeted in a plush light gray that transitioned to white and silvery marble in an airy kitchen. The sitting room contained a luxurious black leather sofa, one she thought looked as though it cost more than a car. Two emerald-colored armchairs were flanking the couch, facing each other, topped with black and silver throw pillows overflowing their seats. 

The grand furniture, accompanied by ottoman and matching side tables made of matte gunmetal, sat overlooking an opulent, ornate fireplace. The hearth was almost as tall as Hermione, though she assumed it was for floo travel. She thought Malfoy must come from wealth because this wasn't ordinary furniture. It all screamed high end, possibly even custom made, and we'll beyond the means of a typical man so young. 

Malfoy reappeared, and a small vial had replaced the shopping bags he had been holding. "Here, it will help." He offered her a bottle filled with red liquid and adorned with a label that read Pepper Up. Unstoppering it, Hermione downed it without a second thought and then blanched.

"God, those are all so awful," she lamented, sticking her tongue out in poor form. 

"Singular?" Malfoy questioned with a raised eyebrow. 

"What?"

"You said, 'God.' Singular. Very muggle of you."

"Well, I am a muggle. Or I was a muggle until I woke up in an infirmary bed 12 years later..." Hermione trailed off. "Ron clearly doesn't like you."

"Feelings mutual, Granger. That prick Weasel doesn't know his place," Malfoy intoned with a sneer, and Hermione thought he looked taken aback when she started laughing.

"Weasel is a great alias for him..." she said after her rambunctious laughter died down.

Malfoy, who had a small smile on his lips while he watched her, laughed lightly. "You used to get irate and call me a ferret when I called him names." 

"Not sure why. He positively seems to warrant being called a weasel. He's slimy." Malfoy snorted another short laugh at the look of repugnance on her face.

"Why do I hate you?" It had been abrupt, she knew, but she had to understand who she had allowed to swirl her away from the people who were supposedly her friends. 

"We've... had a long history." He was very matter of fact. Did not elaborate, much to Hermione's chagrin.

"Great. More vague answers!" Hermione exploded, her moods still turbulent, uncontrolled. "You know I'm not dim, right?! I'll solve it eventually!" 

She was so exhausted from vague responses. She recognized people were hiding things from her. She could see their sidelong glances and had walked in on more than one conversation that came to an abrupt halt at her arrival. 

"What have they told you, Granger?" Malfoy questioned. 

"My name is Hermione. Stop calling me by my surname!" She shouted, and he started laughing. "Stop laughing at me! Answer me!" 

"Same Granger as ever," he said with a shake of his head. He wandered into a set of double doors off the sitting room then, without so much as a proper "be right back." 

Hermione kicked the carpet at her feet in a huff. Coming here had been no better than staying at the Leaky. She had no idea where "here" even was, but she eyed the large fireplace at the center of the sitting room. He was a wizard, so he must have his floo open. Maybe she could get home while he did whatever it was he was doing, so rudely while he had company, in what she assumed was his bedroom. 

Stomping her way to the fireplace, Hermione scanned the mental in earnest. On her tiptoes, she trailer the mantle, and a clearing of his throat startled her. 

"Looking for something?" He asked.

"Floo powder. I want to leave." Was her resolute response. 

"In the box," he pointed one finger to the opposite end of the mantel where a nondescript black box sat, the other 4 holding onto a tumbler of dark liquid. 

"Made you a firewhiskey if you fancy it," he indicated by hoisting his other hand, which held an identical glass. He set it down on the center table and took a seat on the couch, crossing an ankle over his opposite knee. 

"I can't drink," she said, pacing to the other end of the hearth toward her exit. 

"Sure, you can," he deadpanned as he took a long sip from his spirit.

"No, I can't. Not while I'm in treatment! Don't tell me what I can do!" She huffed, rounding on him with an irritated expression. 

"Relax. I didn't know." He picked up the glass the had been intended for her and emptied it into his own. "Problem solved," he punctuated with a shrug, taking another pull from his whiskey.

"Tell me why I'm supposed to hate you." It wasn't a request; it was a demand. Hermione was hot from anger, her chin-length hair all wild curls falling in her face. 

"First, you tell me what Potter and Weasel have told you."

"Nothing! They've told me nothing." 

"Don't lie to me." His voice raised with a passion for the first time since they landed in his sitting room, and it sounded so commanding. It startled Hermione, and she stuttered for a moment.

She started to pace in front of his fireplace then. "They've shown me memories. Of Hogwarts. Using the... uh... fuck, whatever it's called!" 

"Pensieve." 

"Yes, Pensieve." She was treading, hands going wild as she spoke. "But everything was so happy! Nothing was ever wrong. And trust me, that is not how my life had been. Just because I'm some sort of witch doesn't mean everything around me is magically perfect! Why have so many people died in this group? Teddy's parents, Andromeda's husband, George's twin, Harry's parents. My parents! George is missing an ear for God's sake! It's not conceivable that life was just perfect!" Her fingertips crackled with rage as she ranted, traversing the expanse of the room. 

"Sit down. You're ruining my floor." He indicated the other end of the sofa, and she sat down in a huff. 

"What is a Death Eater? Why did Ron call you that?"

Malfoy fell quiet for a long minute, then. His face held a pensive gaze as he appeared very interested in the remaining drink in his tumbler, refusing to acknowledge her. 

Hermione used his silence to finally take him in. His hair was shaggy and a shade of blonde she had never observed on a man before. It appeared to glow from the light around the room. He had a scar that ran from his right cheek over his nose, where she assumed it spread over his left, as well. He had a sharp jawline, and his eyes were a hue of gray that typically did manifest in humans. 

He had unfixed his tie, and it hung loosely around his neck. His silk shirt was pitch black. That sort of black that only came with high-end clothing. His jeans were pressed and his shoes shined. He was quite remarkable for a man. Broad-shouldered and fit.

He sat quietly, sipping his drink, and staring into the unlit fireplace. His sharp jaw twitched a few times under her gaze, but he didn't budge. He emptied the glass in his hand and place it gingerly on the table. He laced his fingers, elbows dropping onto his knees, but made no attempt to meet her gaze.

"Malfoy!" She barked, her patience finally wearing thin.

"Draco," he growled, and it caught her off guard.

"What?" 

"My name is Draco. If you're so keen that I call you Hermione, then stop calling me by my surname." His voice was lethal, scantily above a whisper, but his tone was unmistakable. 

She was bewildered, and his anger seemed to abate hers a touch. "I'm... sorry. I didn't know." 

He ran his hand down his face with a sigh, leaning back into the couch more, tilting his chin toward the cieling. "Don't apologize. It's not your fault. Your friends are fools." 

He pulled his wand out, and with a swish of his wrist, both empty tumblers vanished. He flicked his wand toward the kitchen, and a cabinet opened, letting two glasses out. They levitated across the room, setting themself gently on the coffee table in front of them.

"Water?" He asked, and she nodded her affirmative. 

A small jet of water streamed from the tip of his wand and filled a glass. He aimed it at the other, but Hermione reached out and gripped his hand. His eyes snapped to hers, and she saw a bit of what she thought was confusion grace his features. 

"Will you teach me that?" She questioned softly as she drew her hand back. 

"What?" He breathed. It was very faint, but she couldn't help the chill that dance across her skin. 

"All of it. Will you teach me?" And he laughed darkly. "Fine! Never mind!" She crossed her arms over her chest, huffing a breath out of her nose, turning her body away from him.

"No need to sulk," he laughed again, but it was brighter. "They haven't taught you this?" 

"They haven't taught me a thing! I had to beg for my wand. Harry just gave it to me tonight. Hasn’t given me books. Or newspapers, for God’s sake!"

"Let's just start with the water," he spoke as he summoned a large bowl, understanding settling over his features. 

"Thank you!" She blurted, firing him a radiant smile as she drew out her wand. She noticed him swallow thickly but didn't put much thought into it. She was too excited to finally have someone willing to teach her magic. 

He stood and indicated she do the same, sights heavy on her. He set a hand on her lower back and led her to the other side of the table, and her gut fluttered a bit, her anger fading gently. Hermione observed the table legs grow as they raised to meet her height. 

"Standing helps center yourself, focuses your energy," he spoke. He was standing so close to her that she could smell the sandalwood and citrus scent as it wafted from his shirt. She could smell the spearmint of his toothpaste as he spoke. It was all rather intoxicating, and she reddened slightly as he looked down at her, the corner of his lips ticking up in a smirk.

"It's a pretty simple motion," he said as he held out his wand in front of him. Hermione shook her head slightly to clear it as she turned to pay attention to his wrist movements. He traced a simple wave motion in the air and spoke "Aguamenti" quietly. Water rippled from the tip of his wand before he shook it to stop. "Go on," he said, his hand making a pushing motion to hurry her along. 

She raised her wand, grip loose but secure like she had seen herself do in Harry's memories. She could do this. It was an easy spell, obviously. Copying the wave movement, she spoke "Aguamenti" loudly, but nothing happened. She tried again, to no avail. Her third attempt had been huffed in frustration, and her companion laughed. 

"Relax," he spoke softly. "It's a sixth-year spell, a bit advanced." He walked behind her and slid his hands around her shoulders, pulling back and straightening her spine. "Hold your wand a bit tighter," he murmured, and another shiver rippled over her body as his breath ghosted across her skin.

"You've gotta feel it. You're trying too hard to make it happen. Let it come from here" Draco ran a soft finger down the center of Hermione's back, pausing just below her heart. "Not here," and he gently rapped the back of her head. "Just feel it," he uttered, and she felt her cheeks flame. Her body was certainly feeling something, but it wasn’t magic.

"Just feel it," she echoed softly, her voice trembling a touch, as she shut her eyes, taking a deep breath. Flicking her wrist, she spoke "Aguamenti," and she felt her wand twitch. When she opened her eyes, she saw tiny water droplets leaking from the tip and groaned. 

Draco burst into deep laughter and nudged her. "Hey, it's something!" He said as his laughter filled her ears. "Try again. More feeling." 

She blew out a determined breath, set her brow, and spoke "Aguamenti," waving her and with no hesitation. She felt her wand pulse, and then a small stream of water passed from the tip into the bowl below. She shrieked in excitement, jumping up and down as the water slowly filled its container. 

"How do I end it?" she questioned excitedly. 

"Say Finite," Draco smirked at her as their eyes met. She felt her cheeks flush again as she did as instructed, her wand pulsing, and the water abating immediately. 

"Thank you!" She exclaimed, and she spun, flinging her arms around his neck. "Thank you! This is brilliant!" 

She heard him inhale sharply and felt his feather-light touch on her hips. "You're welcome," he muttered as she lowered back onto the souls of her feet, her hands trailing around his neck on retreat. Their eyes locked, and she saw the red tinge on his cheeks. His nostrils were flared, and his mouth parted somewhat. 

"Uh… sorry," Hermione whispered as she withdrew her hands, but they hovered near his chest. She tried to step back, but his grip tightened on her. Only for a moment. She saw the instant he realized he still held her, his eyes going round, and the blush deepening. He dropped his hands away and moved back with a nod of his head. 

"It's fine. You were brilliant. Nice work, Granger," Draco nodded as he ran a hand through his hair. 

He closed his eyes, and she saw him inhale deeply, solicitude gracing his features. "There was a war. And we were on opposite sides until the end." He had shifted the subject so abruptly, she almost couldn't keep up. He wouldn't make eye contact with her, but she could see the pain on his face as he spoke. 

"A... war?" She echoed quietly, her heart hammering in her chest. He grimaced as he shifted to stare into the unlit fireplace. He flicked his wand, and the fire rumbled to life with a lively flourish. 

"Yes, Granger. A war." 

"Hermione," She declared.

"I'm not going to stop calling you Granger. It's part of who we are," he shouted somewhat as he spun back toward her, flailing a hand between them, heat in his tone.

“I don’t know who we are!” 

“Well, tough luck. You’ll learn soon enough,” Draco spat, his mood shift dragging her along in confusion as hers likely did to most others. “You don’t want to be mollified, then I’m not going to.” 

"Tell me..." but he cut her off. 

"No. I won't merely do anything you want, Granger. That's not me…" 

"Well, I don't know you!" she shouted. 

"No. I won't tell you. You need to have your self-righteous friends tell you." He sounded slightly venomous, and it frightened her. 

"They won't! They treat me like a child!" Her voice was raised, but she wasn't shouting at him, truly. She was pledding. Begging him to show her what she didn't know. "Draco, please." 

As his given name left her mouth, his eyes snapped back to hers, round with surprise. His mouth was ajar slightly, and he seemed to be breathing a bit heavier. She saw him swallow thickly as he looked away. They were soundless for a while, both taking a moment to calm themselves. 

“Will you show me?” she asked quietly, piercing their silence. 

“No,” he spoke quietly but resolutely. 

“Please…” she begged. 

"I don't have my Pensieve. It's at the... the Manor. You don't truly want to see my memories, Granger..." 

"Yes, I do," she uttered scantily above a whisper. "I'm so tired of being left in the dark." 

He huffed a laugh, and she furrowed her brow at him. "Your friends are morons for believing you wouldn't find out. You're too clever, even memory-less." 

They stood in silence for a beat, Hermione staring into the fire. "I'll owl you when I've got the Pensieve," Draco spoke as he paced toward his hearth with purpose. "Where are you living?" 

"Why?" 

"I'll set a floo connection so you can get here." She told him her parents' address at that, and he connected their floos. He clutched the box of floo powder and held it out to her, his eyes looking anywhere but hers.

It felt like he was kicking her out, but she knew she had been imposing. Asking an unknown man to take you somewhere without a clue as to who he was probably hadn't been the brightest of ideas. But he hadn't seemed malicious. He had even taught her to cast a spell when no one else would.

"Thank you," she spoke as she took a handful of powder. "You're the first person to tell me anything of importance about who I was... am. Who I am."

"Sure, Granger... I'll owl you." 

"Wait… is Gringotts open on weekends?"

"Yes?" 

"Thanks…"

"Hey, Granger," he said quietly as she turned toward the fire. 

"Hmm?" 

"Happy birthday."

"Good night, Draco." She thanked him with a shy smile over her shoulder as she tossed the floo powder down. The green flames ignited, swirling her away as she spoke her parents' address.

* * *

Hermione paced her parent’s living room as rage built inside her. Her _best friends_ had omitted a war. And based on Draco’s reactions, it was a war in which they both had played a significant role. Letting her anger overtake her logic, she grabbed a handful of floo powder, stepped into her hearth, and called for Grimmauld Place. 

“Oh, thank Merlin! There you are! We were so worried!” Ginny exclaimed as Hermione fell through the Potter floo. She looked panicked, red bloches on her face as she gaped at her.

“Gin, where is Harry?” Hermione asked with irritation in her tone. 

“He’s out looking for you. Has been since you left the party! We’ve been worried sick!” 

“I’m clearly fine, Ginny. I need to speak with Harry,” she snapped, and Ginny winced slightly. 

“Ok, I’ll send him a Patronus...” and she pulled out her wand, a wispy horse slipping from the tip in a bright blue river of light. Ginny instructed it to find Harry and let him know Hermione had shown up at their place, and it galloped away without a second glance. “Do you want some tea, Hermione?” Ginny asked softly. 

“No, thank you,” she snipped. “I’ll just wait,” and Ginny nodded her head in response. 

Hermione traveled the sitting room, the rage swelling in her gut. How could Harry lie to her so drastically? How could they all lie to her so deeply? They were supposed to be her best friends, and they had shown her nothing of a war. She didn’t even know why there had been a war. Or why she and Draco had been on opposite sides. She fumed as she considered the fact that someone who was thought to be her enemy had been more forthright than the people who claimed to be her most fabulous friends. 

She heard the door slam open and Harry call out for Ginny. A muffled conversation permeated the air before James started to cry, footsteps rushing up the stairs moments later. Loud, booted footsteps echoed around her as they marched down the hall. 

“Hermione!” she heard Harry exclaim as he invaded the room, pushing toward her for a hug. 

“Don’t!” she snapped, and Harry froze dead in his tracks, his face crumpling. 

“I was so worried. Everyone was. Are you okay? Did he hurt you?” Harry rushed out. 

“Not as much as you have,” she intoned as she spun to confront her supposed best mate, a stern look on her profile to keep herself from crying in frustration.

“Herm… what?” He stammered. 

“Anything you’d like to tell me, Harry? Anything you may have neglected in the past?” She could feel the tears forming in her eyes, and she hated her emotions for not being able to portray how angry she truly was. 

“He… he told you?” 

“Yes, he told me!” She shouted. Tears started falling from her eyes, and it only served to further irritate her. 

“I… I was trying to protect you.” 

“Protect me?! From _what_ exactly?! Knowing who I truly am? Remembering what happened in my past?” She was screaming, and she didn’t care if the children could hear her or not.

“Your parents died…”

“I am _more_ than aware!” 

“I just didn’t want you to have to suffer so much, so soon…” 

“That _wasn’t_ your right to decide! It is my life, not yours! You lied to me, Harry! You left out a _war!_ A war where I evidently made enemies! How has no one informed me of this?” Harry flinched at that, and it sent fury coursing through her, her eyes going round with realization. “You told them not to,” she breathed quietly, but it made him flinch worse. 

“Is this why I can’t read the paper? Or magazines?! Is this why you wouldn’t let me go to the bank with you? Why you kept my wand from me?!” She was screaming again. 

“I was trying to protect you!” Harry offered meekly. 

“What were you going to do? Keep me locked up forever? I would have found out!” 

“I was going to tell you…” he said quietly. 

“You should have told me months ago!” 

“I was trying to protect you…” he said quietly. 

“It wasn’t. Your. Right! How can I know what you showed me is even real?!” She cried with pain in her voice. “I can’t trust you! I can’t… I can’t be near you!” 

Harry tried to take a step toward her, but she flinched away. “‘Mione… I’m sorry…” 

“No!” She yelled. “Don’t come near me. You don’t get that privilege any longer, Harry Potter…” she backed away as tears filled her eyes again. “I… I don’t want to see you again.” She whispered out as she grabbed a handful of floo powder from the mantel behind her. 

“Hermione! Wait!” Harry cried after her, but she didn’t stall her movements. She cast the powder down into the blazing red fire. As green erupted, Hermione stepped in and turned. She saw Harry’s pained expression as she called out her parents' address, swirling away. 

Landing in her parents' humble living room, she collapsed onto her knees and sobbed. She sobbed for everything she thought she knew and everything she unquestionably didn’t. She thought something had been missing; she could feel it. That everyone had been leaving her out of something. But she hadn’t imagined it was a war.


	9. A Fine Friday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hi lovies! 
> 
> another week, another chapter. I actually had to split this one into two chapters because 8k word chapters just don't fit this story. so good news is, the next chapter is already fully written and edited. :) 
> 
> this is more of a filler chapter, sets up a lot of future events, etc. 
> 
> so, hope you enjoy it. 
> 
> again, I don't own anything Harry Potter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi lovies! 
> 
> another week, another chapter. I actually had to split this one into two chapters because 8k word chapters just don't fit this story. so good news is, the next chapter is already fully written and edited. :) 
> 
> this is more of a filler chapter, sets up a lot of future events, etc. 
> 
> so, hope you enjoy it. 
> 
> again, I don't own anything Harry Potter.

Hermione perched at the table in her parents' kitchen shifting fruit back and forth across her plate. It had been nearly a week since her confrontation with Harry, and she was exhausted. Sleep had eluded her, her subconscious replaying uproars of her past days without pause. She stayed up for hours on end, lazing in her bed without stirring, merely crying. 

The few hours she had slept, she awoke in a cold sweat from dreams, or rather nightmares, of quarreling with Ron. Objects being hurled around a flat that felt unfamiliar yet so intimate. It only served to annoy her further each time she stirred that the git was now infiltrating her slumber. The sole chance she was supposed to feel contentment. 

A pecking noise drew her from her thoughts, and she watched a large grey eagle owl thrust its beak into the window over the sink. 

She knew the bird. It arrived each morning this week with a well-worn newspaper named _The Daily Prophet_. It had astounded Hermione somewhat to see the pictures move, bright grins of characters gazing up at her as camera lights flashed about them. Most of the articles were trivial, inane passages of current style or romance. But she had happened upon some gems. Essays penned of recent legislation being enacted or new works by wizarding authors. 

A loud ticking echoed again and pulled her into motion. She seized her plate and shuffled to the sink, loosening the window to permit the familiar avian entrance. As it dived in, it ejected a relatively large package onto the counter before perching atop the window seal and preening itself. 

The box, wrapped elegantly in blue paper, held under its bronze ribbon a small envelope. As Hermione withdrew it, the face revealed her given name scrawled in the most elegant calligraphy she had ever observed. Flipping it, she managed to open the letter without cracking the dark green M wax seal. 

_Friday, at 8 p.m.? Send a response with Ogma. Use the floo._

_P.S. enjoy the books._

"Man of few words," she smiled to herself. He hadn't even endorsed his name, but she knew precisely who had sent her the note. And now identified from where the daily newspapers had come. Hermione found a pen in a drawer and scribbled an acknowledgment. 

"Take this back to your master, please," she commanded the owl. It hooted aloud and jerked the rolled scroll from her hand as it soared out of the window. She huffed a laugh at its gruff behavior, reminding her somewhat of its owner, as she watched it drift out of sight.

Glancing down at the package begging to be opened, she ran her fingers over the ribbon. Excitement built inside her as she ripped the paper, wondering what books it could contain. Her heart leapt as she removed three worn texts. 

_Standard Book of Spells, Year 1_ by Miranda Goshawk.

_The House Elf Dilemma_ by Mathilda Grimblehawk and Perry Meriwether. 

And _Hogwarts, a History_ , which she remembered was penned by Bathilda Bagshot, thanks to her own shabby copy upstairs. 

Hermione wasted hours well into the morning over the next few nights, merely scrutinizing the book of spells. It was surreal, she thought. She had felt surges of nostalgia wash over her as she skimmed the pages, even though she had no memory of it. 

Her body had itched with excitement as she swished her wand, seeking to call forth the magic Draco had helped her discover. But her happiness waned, and frustration only grew more profound as the nights dragged on. 

She wasn't able to cast a spell, despite what she attempted. Standing, sitting, whispering, yelling. Nothing. She studied wand movements, sound, delivery, and resonance more times than she could count, but zilch. 

Anger and frustration filled her bones as she thought back to Draco's words. That she wanted it too much. That she needed to relax. But nothing seemed to drive the magic from her wand.

Hermione sat silently, eating a small breakfast on Friday morning, as another rap came on the window. She watched a little, brown barn owl settle itself on the window ledge and stare wide-eyed at her. 

She knew the bird well. It was the Potters' owl. Sighing as tension charged her form, she opened the window to allow it entrance. The small bird bounced in, dropping a missive in her palm with a hoot. 

_Hermione,_

_Your healer floo'd and said you didn't show yesterday. Are you okay? I know you're angry with me, rightfully so. I just want to make sure you're alright._

_Harry_

A bit of stress left her shoulders as she read his letter. She had been so wrapped up in spells and books, punishing herself for her inability, that she had neglected the fact she was still recovering from an accident. One that had stolen her parent's lives. One in which she had lost her memory. 

Running her hands down her face on an exhale, she dismissed Harry's owl without a reply. 

In an attempt to calm herself, to pull her mind from the agony of failure and ruin, Hermione picked up _The House Elf Dilemma_. She paced outside onto the porch and found a lovely sunny area to perch, losing herself in the text until the anger throughout her bones surged. She pitched the book across the yard in annoyance as her passion peaked. 

"So much for soothing," she huffed as she plucked the book from the grass, heading inside, wishing she could toss it straight into the rubbish bin. 

The work was a discussion on whether house elves, a sentient race of magical creatures, merited rights and pay. One author advocating for their freedom and the other insisting they were to remain as they were - enslaved. It infuriated Hermione to learn that even in a society where elves existed alongside witches and wizards, racial prejudice still existed. It seemed so perverse to her that although they were sentient beings, that they were not granted rights. 

Hermione stomped up the stairs in a fit, slumping into a hot bath in a last-ditch attempt to pacify herself. Before she whirled into Draco's flat in a craze. 

She had hauled her gifted copy of _Hogwarts, a History_ up the stairs with her. She knew it was a safe, tranquil option. Something to lure her mind away from the swirl of anger and despair she couldn't help feeling.

As she cracked it open, a piece of crisp parchment flittered out and settled on her chest. It was his handwriting again, and the notion made her smile. 

_I know this one is your favorite. Happy Birthday._

Her breath caught in her throat as she read the preface. It was a first edition print. Goose flesh rose over her skin at the history she held in her hands. The text predated the 1500s and had been inscribed by a descendant of Rowena Ravenclaw herself. It hadn't been altered or changed throughout the ages. 

The book had stunned her silent for some time as she merely marveled at it. A calm settled over her as she flipped through the pages, taking in new and unknown history of her alma mater. She lost herself in the lines for some time, draining and refilling the hot water in her tub until her entire body was pruned. 

It wasn't until darkness began to settle over the room that she realized the time. Drying herself, and attempting to tame her tresses, she mourned the mirror for its reflection. The scar on her face was puffy and solely served to highlight her recent misfortunes. It was a symbol of her pain and her loss, and she resented having to view it each day. 

Forgoing any make-up to disguise it, Hermione sighed as she paced toward her closet. But, what greeted her was a heap of unwashed garments. In her frenzy of spellwork and sadness, it had simply slipped her mind that the wash was essential. 

Stepping into the hallway, her sights settled onto her parents' bedroom door. She knew her mother's clothes still hung within her closet, but she hadn't been able to stomach the idea of peering inside since moving back in. 

Taking a deep breath, she crossed the hallway hesitantly. Her hand paused on the doorknob, tears threatening to fall as she tried to still her racing heart. As she cracked the door, her parents' lingering scent attacked her senses, and a tear dropped down her cheek. 

Their room was just as she remembered it. The walls were clad in the floral wallpaper that her mother loved dearly. Her father's model trains still lined the shelves next to their bed. She shuffled into their room and fell into a heap on their mattress, allowing herself to cry long, labored tears.

As she pulled herself up, an agony still in her gut, she opened the closet doors and ran her hand atop the hanging garments. Her mother had always had an exquisite sense of style. She had frequently sought Hermione's company on shopping trips when she was younger. To get her out of ill-fitted jeans and ratty jumpers. But Hermione had refused more times than not. Another tear dropped at the lost chances, the missed opportunities, and her vacant consciousness. 

Sighing to herself, she found a simple periwinkle sundress and slipped it on. The hem sat just above her knee, uncomplicated straps caressing her fully exposed back. She felt beautiful and stupid all at once as she inspected herself in the mirror, twisting back and forth a touch. She felt too dressed up for someone who was thought to be her adversary. Who was to reveal visions of a war that loomed over her past. 

When the clock on her mantle thumped 7:59 p.m., she pitched a handful of the floo powder into the fire. The green flames roared to life as she stepped in, called for Malfoy Residence, and was whisked off until she could see his ostentatious furniture zooming closer. 

Her feet hit his hearth, and she came to an abrupt stop, nearly toppling over onto his floor. She heard him laugh and lifted her head, giving him a glare where he sat on the black leather sofa. 

"I'm still not used to it," she bemoaned. 

"Couldn't tell, Granger. Never was one to stay on your feet." 

"Right..." Hermione whispered as a timid smile graced her features. Her lingering sadness must have read clearly on her face because he frowned as he watched her.

"Thank you," she started, but he waved it off. 

"Don't thank me yet," came his response as he stood, pacing to the kitchen. "Anything to drink?" 

"No, thank you. I'd just like to get started..." 

"Right… the Pensieve is in the library." 

He held a stiff expression on his face as he gestured to the room off the sitting area. The one he had entered the last time she was in his home.

"Library?" She breathed, and he chuckled at her astonishment. It jarred her somewhat as his laughter seemed to ease her mood. He rocked his head again, and a beautiful smile graced his lips. "What?" 

"Yes, Granger, my _library_. Calm your knickers, bookworm." 

The softness in his eyes and warm expression that befell his features that met hers made her face flush. Unquestionably not the response she had anticipated when he spoke the nickname children at primary school had ridiculed her with.

"Oka..." but her reply was sliced short by a loud rapping sounding throughout the room. 

"Merlin..." he muttered as he stalked to the door. 

His face looked angry, and he marched with a movement Hermione hadn't seen before. He appeared to glide over the floor effortlessly, even though there was a fierce tension in his shoulders. 

Snatching open the door, she heard him scold his caller with a fiery, "what are you doing here?" 

Draco was shoved aside as a beautiful, round-faced woman strolled in. Her black hair was cropped in the back and grew longer as it moved toward her face, the longest piece resting just beneath her shoulder. 

Her nose was flat but button-like, and her lips full. Her eyes, which widened almost comically slow as they fastened to Hermione, were a lovely shade of hazel green. Her skin held a beautiful olive complexion, and she was rather tall. But it could have been the heels granting her the extra length. Hermione noticed the sleek black dress she wore that emphasized her slim frame and the curves of her body. 

_Of course_ , she would be his type, Hermione mused to herself with a grimace. 

"Pans, I'm busy," Draco growled, and the beautiful woman nodded languidly. 

"I can see that," she proclaimed as she eyed Hermione from head to toe. 

Hermione instantly felt self-conscious about her outfit, her hair, her scars, and even her dull brown eyes. A sensation to which she wasn't ordinarily accustomed. She tried to smile lightly at the other woman, giving her a wave as a second visitor stuck his head in the door around Draco. 

"Well, shit," the dark-skinned man spoke. 

He strolled past Draco and stood next to his counterpart. He was tall, taller than Draco, at least. Draco was at minimum a head taller than Hermione, and this new fellow reached at least 2 inches higher than that. 

He was rather handsome, a brilliant white smile shining at her as he scanned her and then the room. He wore a set of black jeans, a dark green shirt that shone upon his flawless ebony skin, and a jet black blazer. It all seemed just as expensive as the attire his match was wearing. 

He bowed his upper half to Hermione dramatically, and she heard herself chuckle.

"Fancy seeing you here, _Granger_." He cocked an eyebrow at Draco as he drew out her surname, his mouth forming into a carnal smirk. 

"I... I can come back, Draco," Hermione stammered out. Her face was flushed with embarrassment, and her voice was timid. She registered the lovely woman's eyebrow tick up a fraction at her words. 

"Don't let us ruin the fun," the other man expressed, the grin still plastered to his mug. 

"Shut it, Zabini. What are you doing here?" Draco challenged again with a tone of irritation.

Zabini, hopefully a surname, hoisted a bag of takeaway that she had overlooked in her discomfort. 

"We said we'd bring takeaway by." 

"And I told you, I was busy." 

"To be fair, mate, when you say you're busy, you're normally just reading a book with your cat." Zabini laughed a stunningly vibrant laugh as Draco's face tinged red. "You hungry?" He addressed Hermione directly then.

"I don't want to impose."

"You're not. They are." Draco declared as he slammed the door closed and marched about the two newcomers. "I can tell them to leave," he whispered as he approached Hermione. 

"I could eat..." she said sheepishly.

"Brilliant!" Zabini sounded as he moved to the kitchen. 

Pans, hopefully also her surname, trailed him, scarcely extracting her eyes from Hermione. She seemed quizzical of her presence, and it sprang a knot of discomfort into Hermione's gut.

"Draco, may I use your loo?" Hermione asked softly. 

He nodded and guided her toward the hallway, showing her the first door on the left. She smiled her thanks and left the three then. Her heart was pounding as she made her way into the bathroom and out of sight.

She didn't genuinely need the loo, but asking had seemed like an effortless way to slip off and clear her mind. She hadn't expected this many people. And these were Draco's friends. Souls who clearly knew her, but of whom she yet again had no recollection. And if Pans' response to her presence was any evidence, they also likely hadn't gotten along.

She ran some water over her face, took a fortifying breath, and stepped back into the hall. She lingered there for a bit, unwilling or unable to return to the sitting room. She marveled at the embellished picture frames that lined the long hall as she wandered down it. Some were shifting slightly, some sat still, but all were elegant and subtle.

She walked past several closed doors, but one at the end of the hallway was somewhat ajar. Before she could resist, curiosity won, and Hermione pushed the door inward and stepped inside. 

His bedroom behind was utterly refined. A great 4-poster bed rested on the left of the room, flanked by two doors. Its curtains were vibrant shades of blue and bronze that swung open and loosely to the floor. The bed itself held a cream-colored coverlet with at least ten pillows adorning the top, and at that, Hermione giggled. 

The furniture throughout the room was artful and had a rich cherrywood finish that gave the place a warm, lived-in feeling. The walls were decorated with a soft hue of blue and lined with wood-toned trim that matched almost perfectly with the fittings. One wall held another hearth finished with a sofa and wingback armchair, both of which appeared much more inviting than the leather counterpart in the sitting room. 

But none of that held a flame to the carpet to ceiling windows that seemed to expand the room. Hermione strolled toward the glass, a serenity settling over her as she gazed out. The last minutes of sunset filled the sky, bathing the garden beyond in a romantic aura. The flowers appeared to glitter somewhat as she observed them, and she thought they might genuinely be shimmering with magic. 

"Snooping?" came Draco's drawl from behind her, and she jumped in fright. 

Hermione whirled around to find him standing close to her back, peering at the outside over her shoulder. She had been so hypnotized by the landscape that she hadn't overheard his approach.

"I'm sorry... I... it was cracked and..." Hermione sputtered.

"And you snooped," he laughed, his face containing no irritation. "I wanted to be in Ravenclaw, but Malfoy's are always Slytherin. So when I had my own choice, I decorated with their colors."

"Says the very Slytherin sitting room," Hermione teased.

One side of his mouth lifted into a charming smile, a laugh falling from his lips and filling her ears. "That was Mother. She refused to allow me to decorate the sitting room." 

"I thought I'd have been sorted into Ravenclaw," Hermione announced.

"You've certainly got the brains. But the courage won out." He had a sincere expression on his face as he met her eyes. His grey orbs were shining with unshed emotion as he gazed over her features.

"I talked to those two fools," he whispered. "Told them to leave you alone." Nodding, she muttered her thanks to him, unable to articulate fully. 

"Hungry?" Draco asked, and Hermione nodded again.

They shifted back into the sitting room, helping themselves to some of the open Chinese takeaway on the counter. Hermione lingered in the kitchen for a bit, as Draco joined his friends, smiles over their faces. She sighed somewhat, plucking up enough courage to join them.


	10. A Firey Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> and nowwww, part 2!
> 
> I hope you enjoy.
> 
> i do not own anything related to Harry Potter and am not making any profit from this story.

_They shifted back into the sitting room, helping themselves to some of the open Chinese takeaway on the counter. Hermione lingered in the kitchen for a bit, as Draco joined his friends, smiles over their faces. She sighed somewhat, plucking up enough courage to join them._

* * *

As Hermione joined the three friends in the sitting area, Zabini rose, extending his hand. "Blaise Zabini, a pleasure to meet you." He had a charming smile as Hermione accepted his gesture. "And this she-beast is Pansy." 

"Oh, thank God, it's not just Pans," Hermione let out with an embarrassed shriek as she recognized she had spoken it aloud. 

Blaise and Draco howled with laughter, and Pansy chuckled lightly along with them. 

"No, only these gits call me Pans. Because they know I hate it." Pansy leveled both with glares, but Hermione was confident she saw a tender affection in her expression. 

The four made polite conversation while they squandered their takeaway. Hermione learned stories of Draco's childhood, much to his mortification. Blaise assured her that Draco was exuberant in his formative years, too unmanageable for his mother to handle. She overheard the mention of house elves to help nurse him and made a mental reminder to challenge him on that later. 

Pansy regaled the group with her latest voyages to discover novel and ambitious fashion designers. Hermione ascertained she was a style editor for a magazine called Witch Weekly and questioned her on forthcoming articles. It was a stimulating conversation, to say the least. As poised as she was on the outside, Pansy was a tigress on the inside. She had an abundance of views around sustainability, inclusion, empowerment, and modernization of witches' fashion. 

Blaise spoke of his work with Draco at Malfoy Enterprises, managing a Muggle Technology Expansion division. Though Hermione had no idea what that truly meant, it was exhilarating. They reviewed the recent internet struggles in the muggle world and how they capitalized on investments in some key players like Amazon and Priceline. How they were contemplating opening an office in London and taking on muggle and squib employees.

Hermione was spellbound by their conversations of business and travel and leisure. They were the most captivating discussions in which she had partaken since waking from her coma. Unquestionably refreshing. Everyone she had come into contact with had decided to shower her with their memories. She knew they had been doing it in love, but it had started to bore her. She wanted knowledge of the wizarding world, not just friendly stories and pacification.

"You lot dyed my hair orange! Like some Weasley!" Pansy bemoaned, and Hermione discerned she had missed a topic shift.

"You've got no proof," Blaise laughed. 

When their conversation transformed into a spirited debate of escapades, she tuned it out. Gazing over at Draco, she found his eyes settled on her. He regarded her while he sipped his rich firewhiskey, a soft smile on his face. He looked immaculate, she remarked for the first time this evening. 

He wore a simple pair of dark, worn jeans and a plain gray t-shirt. It comforted her to know she hadn't underdressed for him. He appeared just as comfortable as she did. He had gotten a haircut, his locks now longer on top, shorter on the sides. It was styled so that the fringe in front was pushed back, making it shaggy yet clean all at once.

He had stubble on his sharp jawline from a few days unshaven, which made him seem rugged and, honestly, very sexy. The smile he had held all night from his friend's antics made his face feel lighter, happier. A subtle yet sophisticated beauty that she could only relish with a smile.

Draco winked a lovely, shining gray eye at her as their sights met, and Hermione couldn't help the flutter in her abdomen, and the heat that formed her face. 

He mouthed, "you okay?" over his tumbler, and Hermione simply nodded. 

As the conversation died down, Blaise and Pansy began to clear the dishes. Draco shifted from his place in the emerald armchair opposite her and relaxed into the sofa alongside her. She felt nervousness and excitement build over her form as he sank back and took another swig of his spirit. 

"You had house elves?" Hermione challenged with a substantial stare. 

"Have. I have house elves," Draco corrected her with a slight smirk. "You read the books, then?" 

"Of course, I did! You're participating in slavery!" She heard her accusatory tone, but it didn't perturb her. 

"I am not. You read the book, so you know that they live to work," Draco countered. 

"They only live to serve because they are told to. They don't know any different," Hermione responded, and he smirked. 

"Same Granger, same argument."

"What?" She asked, confused.

"Not the first time you've come to this conclusion on your own. You founded a little activist group called S.P.E.W. in school. Pushed through regardless of how much you were made fun of." 

"Good! Everyone should have the same conclusion!" 

"Should they?" 

"Yes! They don't understand they can be free." 

"But do they _want_ to be free?" He challenged her with a leveled stare. "Should I be required to free my elves, who have lived and worked with the Malfoy family for over three centuries? When they do not wish to be freed? Simply because someone doesn't appreciate our relationship? Should Hogwarts free the lines of elves who have existed in and served the castle and its headmaster for centuries? Or boot them out if they refuse payment? Which most elves do. Refuse payment." 

Malfoy was goading her, she knew it, but she sensed a fire building within her. 

"It's slavery! There should be laws to protect them! Particularly if they are serving a Ministry backed organization like Hogwarts. A government forcing slavery on a race is wrong. The elves should be compensated with a fair wage!" she responded heatedly. 

"I agree, and I pay my elves accordingly. I place their payment into an account, and they've never once touched it." He offered. "But why should someone regulate their behavior if a life of duty to their masters is what causes them joy?" He countered. 

"They don't know any better!"

"Same argument, different day, Granger. Try again." 

"I... it's simply evil." 

"And she concedes defeat." 

"I do not!" 

"Don't worry, I'll grant you time to formulate your argument." 

He was smirking at her, and rather than bother her, it made her insides feel like they were on fire. Hermione sat silent for a moment, and Draco spoke again. 

"And she concedes," he whispered, the sexy smirk growing further over his features, and her breath hitched. 

"Never," she huffed and rolled her eyes, looking away as she crossed her arms. 

He chuckled and nudged her knee with his. Glancing back to him, he held a smile on his face. 

"Admit it, that was fun," he drawled. 

And she couldn't deny it. It was fun debating with someone who could hold a discussion. Someone who could counter her stances and not merely yield she was right. Someone who actually shed light on the wizarding world and the injustices and inequalities within, rather than making it seem like a pristine paradise. 

She allowed a smile to grace her features as he rose, trailing his eyes over her with that infuriatingly beautiful smirk plastered on his face. 

"We've got things to do," he vocalized, and she assumed it was addressed to his friends who had joined them partway through their debate. 

Pansy's eyebrows were raised nearly to her hairline, and Blaise held a broad grin on his mug. Hermione noticed Draco snarl slightly and mouth soundlessly to his friends, who both deflated under his gaze.

"Right then, mate. We'll head out," Blaise spoke. Pansy stayed quiet, but Hermione saw a knowing look in her eye as she glanced back and forth between herself and Draco. 

"Hermione, it was nice to meet you, for real," Blaise offered his hand, and Hermione accepted it in parting. Draco led Blaise to the door, but Pansy lingered within her space.

"Whatever you see tonight, just remember the last few hours. If you need someone to talk to, just floo to Parkinson's residence." 

Pansy's face was so severe it caused Hermione's stomach lurch. She gave a nod of farewell and joined Blaise at the door. 

When his friends disappeared, Draco turned to her with an apologetic smile. "Sorry. I told them I was busy."

"Debatable if this was more enjoyable than snuggling up with a book and an imaginary cat?" She grinned at him, and his disposition cleared somewhat. 

"Niamh is very real, Granger. Loves sleeping in the library, which is where she is, I'm sure." 

He strolled past her then, to the wooden double doors they had nearly entered hours prior. What she observed when he held the doors open for her left her utterly speechless. 

Floor to ceiling bookshelves lined three walls of both levels of the library before her. The room seemed to be larger than the house should truly allow, and she smiled at the wonders of magic. The second floor was open to below, a metal walkway allowing access to the shelves that lined it. 

The whole room smelled like parchment and rich cedar. The walls and shelves were an intricately carved dark wood that made the vibrant colors of the book bindings stand out amongst the darkness. 

Another significant, picturesque wall of windows sat directly in front of her offering a dazzling look into another garden. A set of doors made up the bottom ten feet of the glass wall, and they lead out onto a patio with a simple seating area. 

She ran her eyes up the walls and noticed an entirely glass ceiling, accented by rich, carved molding that separated it from the room below. It granted her a broad panorama of the sky above. 

The moon was bright tonight, and it bathed the landscape and library with a soft white glow that made everything look almost ethereal. 

She could scarcely breathe as she shuffled in further, where she noticed a seating space and another fireplace. The leftmost cushion was well worn, and in a dented section of the headrest behind, a large gray and black banded cat laid sleeping. It was larger than any cat she had seen and seemed very slim. The cat picked up its head, gave her a once over, then laid back down. 

"She likes you," Draco laughed as he scratched the cat behind its enormous ear. 

"Draco..." she breathed, and he locked his eyes to her, a tightness in his jaw, eyes slightly round. "It's so beautiful. I've always dreamed of having a room like this." 

"You can have it," he voiced, and she caught the faint blush of his cheeks as he shifted his gaze away from her. "I mean, you can use it whenever you'd like." He was highly focused on petting the purring animal, and Hermione chuckled. 

"Thank you," she said as she approached the couch casually. 

She noticed a large circular dish in the middle of the coffee table, which she knew to be his Pensieve. 

"I'm... nervous," she whispered as she sank onto the warm sofa. 

"Yeah, me too, Granger." 

He had spoken scarcely above a whisper, but Hermione overheard him. She regarded the pained look on his face and recognized for the first time that this might be just as difficult for him. She was going to view his innermost thoughts, and they barely knew one another. Or she scantily knew him.

"You know, I used to have a reading nook," she tried to alleviate their mood as he perched next to her. "My parents put it together for me after I broke my arm. It was just a tent, a few pillows, and a string of lights, but I thought it was so magical. I spent hours there, imagining I was in a room like this." 

She eyed her surroundings anew with a sad smile. "They must have gotten rid of it. I could always make it again, I suppose, but..." she trailed off.

They both sat, in silence, staring at the Pensieve for some time. Hermione could tell Draco felt precisely as she did. Nervous to the point of inaction. She wanted so desperately to examine the memories, but she felt apprehensive of genuinely knowing the truth. 

"You want to learn to light the fire?" He asked in their stillness. 

"Lighting a fire isn't difficult…" she huffed with a furrowed brow. 

"I meant with magic."

"Oh… oh! Yes! Please!" Her eyes lit up and met his as a lopsided smile flittered over his features, making her heart flutter somewhat. "I've been trying some on my own, and I just can't make it happen."

"Come on then," he rose and offered his hand. 

Gliding her fingers upon the soft skin of his palm, she reddened as she stood. He drew her along to the fireplace and moved behind her, angling her toward the beautiful hearth. Hermione's heart started to beat a bit harder at its enclosure as his hold heated her upper arm.

"This one's a bit easier than _Aguamenti,_ " he said quietly behind her. 

He held his wand up at her side and made a triangular movement, a minute protuberance at the bottom, and spoke " _Incendio_ " quietly. Her body flushed red the same moment the fire did.

"Got it?" Draco whispered near her ear, and she could smell the oaky brown sugar of firewhiskey on his breath. 

She could only manage a nod as he waved his wand, the fire abating in its wake. Hermione hoisted her wand, steadying herself as he stepped to her side, facing her full-on rather than the fire. She felt her cheeks heat further, and she knew the blush was fighting its way down her neck. 

Shutting her eyes, she took a deep, calming breath. But she could still sense Draco's sights on her, her heart not stopping it's staccato.

Mimicking his movements, she spoke " _Incendo_ ," and sparkles crackled at the tip of her wand. Joy filled her form as success flooded over her. 

"Good, again," he spoke softly, and she agreed. "Remember, from here," he murmured as he brushed his fingers across her back, pressing softly against it. She could feel her core hum as his palm heated the naked skin where her heart jumped. She wondered if he could feel it, too. 

Another extended breath and she spoke " _Incendio_ " in a sterner tone. The fireplace lit to life gradually, unenthusiastically, and she lept in glee. 

"Yes!" She bellowed, and he smirked. 

"Getting better, Granger," he said as Hermione shifted to him. 

He held a delicate smile on his face. The hint of desire that showed in his eyes made Hermione's breath catch lightly as she gazed up at him.

"Thank you for that… and the books, the newspapers..." Hermione muttered. 

"You're welcome." 

He took a small step closer, and her heart missed a beat. The essence of sandalwood and citrus overran her senses, and she welcomed the blush growing further down her neck.

He reached up then and tucked her hair behind her ear gently. It was hardly long enough to stay, and one section sprang out about her eyes. His orbs roved her face, and Hermione felt her heart hammering against her ribs. 

"Did I tell you how lovely you look tonight?" 

All she could manage was a shake of her head. 

"Though, I do miss your long, rambunctious curls," he whispered as he ventured to push the stubborn section of her hair back behind her ear. As his thumb ghosted over her cheek, she couldn't help the goose flesh that tingled her arms. 

"Me too…"

"I can ask Mother if she knows of an elixir. If you'd like."

"Ginny gave me something," she offered. 

"Mother may have access to… higher quality potions." He chuckled quietly, and a heat warmed the expanse of her skin, her heart dancing about its enclosure.

"Alright…"

He seemed to drift in a touch further as a desire grew deeper over his features. He stretched his hand out and softly brushed the back of hers, and her body vibrated at the feeling.

"Maybe we just call it a night?" she whispered into the small space between them.

"...What?" He appeared perplexed, a bit of shock recording in his appearance. 

He blinked rapidly, and she noticed the awareness fall over his characteristics. Draco swallowed thickly, breathed deeply, and moved back somewhat. 

"I've… had such a nice time. I don't want to ruin it with…" She turned her gaze to the Pensieve that sat waiting for their return to the coffee table. 

"Come back tomorrow?" 

"I don't want to impose…" 

"I'm asking you to come, you can't impose," he laughed a bit, and it made her smile. 

"Okay. Tomorrow." 

"Tomorrow," he echoed quietly, holding a hand out towards the doors. "Floo is only connected out there." 

They ambled next to one another into the sitting room, his eyes glancing at her every few moments. 

"Thank you for tonight, Draco," Hermione whispered, flutters still wracking her gut. 

"You're welcome, Granger. Same time tomorrow." 

"Tomorrow," she mimicked peacefully. Draco's face contained a gentle smile as she seized a handful of floo powder, cast it into the low flames, and whirled away.


	11. A Sweet Gift

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is mostly a filler chapter!

At 8:00 P.M. on the mark, Hermione floo'd into Draco's sitting room, more gracefully than the day prior.

"Granger," he greeted as he exited the library, a tumbler of whiskey in his hand. 

"Hello, Draco," she beamed as she dusted soot from her clothing. 

He looked utterly handsome this evening. Not unusual, Hermione mused to herself. He wore a fitted long sleeve shirt that emphasized the brawn of his arms and chest. His hair was pushed back at the front, and it gave the blonde fringe an almost oceanic look, waves crashing upon the sand. 

"You look beautiful," she overheard him say, and she glanced up to find a lopsided smile on his face. Realizing she had been gawking, and he had caught her, she blushed. 

"Uh, you too," she answered, and he chuckled. 

"Thirsty? Hungry?"

"A glass of water might be nice…"

Draco paced past her into the kitchen, drawing a glass from the cabinet and filling it. As she neared the kitchen island, he shifted it across to her. Hermione raised it to her lips and took a sip as he did the same of his firewhiskey. 

"I think a memory came back," she uttered. 

When she woke this morning, she had clear visions of a dream played on repeat the night before. She and her parents had been eating ice cream together. They had all looked so happy. So peaceful. And their smiles had filled her vision since. She had seemed quite young, but she couldn't pinpoint where it had fit into her life or why. 

"Yeah? What memory?" He appeared concerned as his features fell a bit. 

"Of my parents. We were eating ice cream, and we were so happy…"

"That's great, Granger."

"It's just one."

"It's better than none."

"...Yes… yes, you're right," she shook her head, clearing it. 

And he was right. Hermione had been studying it completely wrong. Punishing herself that she didn't know from when the memory was rather than appreciating the fact that she had it. 

"I'm sorry about your parents. I read about it in The Prophet," he murmured. 

"The paper?" She questioned, wondering why her life was so compelling that an article had been written. "Why… why would it have been in the paper? I'm no one. Just Hermione." He only nodded, though, not offering elaboration. 

"You okay?" He asked. 

"I'm alright. Just… nervous," Hermione said softly. 

"I've got something for you first," he said as he finished his tumbler of whiskey, setting it in the sink. 

"You don't need to get me things."

"You're right, I don't need to. I wanted to. It's in the library," Draco replied with a smile so sweet it tried to melt her heart. "Come on," he instructed, and Hermione trailed him to the ornate double doors. 

"Really, you don't…" 

"Hush, Granger. Close your eyes," he cut her off. When she hesitated, he gave her a stern look, eyebrows cocked high in emphasis. 

"Alright…"

As she closed her eyes, she felt his hand slip to the middle of her back as he slid in closer. He smelled just like the night prior, of sandalwood and citrus and ocean breeze. It made her heart race as he guided her lightly, walking her through the doors into the library. 

"No peeking," he whispered. Hermione could hear a fire crackling in the hearth, and redness graced her cheeks, thinking again of the night before. 

He slowed them to a stop and moved behind her, his hands coming to cover her eyes lightly. 

"Ready?" He whispered next to her ear, and she lost the ability to speak, giving him only a nod in approval. 

Her eyes fluttered open as he withdrew his hands, and she gasped. In an alcove that hadn't been there yesterday sat a tan fabric tent. The flaps of which were held open with butterfly clips, wings actually fluttering and stirring sparkling dust that glittered in the soft light. 

It was wide enough to lay down comfortably, she thought, as her eyes roamed the mountain of pillows inside. The cushions were soft shades of blue and purple that caused the whole thing to appear serene. Small flickering lights hovered around the top, and dangled from the sides, giving off a delicate glow. Sufficient to read, but not enough to kill the magic.

"Draco… it's beautiful…" she spoke softly as her mind tried to fully comprehend the details in front of her. 

"Niamh approved, clearly," he chuckled, and Hermione noticed the cat then. 

She was stretched out on the fluffy pillows upside down, the perfect picture of relaxation. She gave a small laugh as she turned to Draco, a graceful smile across her lips. 

"I don't know what to say, Draco… thank you." 

She hadn't a clue what to do, but giving him a hug had felt reasonable. As she slid her arms around him, she felt his breath catch, and she was pleased to know she wasn't the only one feeling astounded. He folded his arms about her tightly and placed his chin on the crown of her head, which she laid gently on his chest. 

"It seemed to mean a lot to you…" 

"It does… thank you."

"You've said that," he chuckled. 

She leaned back then and glanced up at him with an exasperated smile. "Well, I mean it. So I'll say it as much as I like. Thank you."

Draco's eyes were soft on hers, his face holding a red tinge. It could have been the lighting, but he gave her a somewhat lustful smile, and his cheeks redden slightly more. He ran a hand up her back slowly, finding her hair and tucking it behind her ear once again. 

"You're welcome, Hermione." 

Her mouth fell open gradually as a chill ran up her spine. Draco's voice was so sultry that she knew her face had flushed immeasurably more as her heart skipped yet another beat. She dropped her arms then, and he followed suit as she stepped back. Swaying her head a bit to clear it, she drew in a deep breath. 

"You ready?" He asked softly. 

"As I'll ever be," came her resigned response as he steered her toward the couch and the waiting Pensieve. 

He drew two vials from his pocket and rolled them between his fingers as they relaxed into the couch. 

"All of my worst memories boiled down into two vials…" he uttered meekly. He held a contemplative look on his face, and Hermione could tell he honestly didn't want to do this.

"We… we don't have to watch them, Draco… I'm forcing you. I'm asking you to do something you don't want. What was I thinking? I'm sor…"

"Granger," he said sternly. "If I didn't want to do this, you wouldn't be here."

She fell hushed as the sternness of his voice washed over her. His face was purely reflective as he stared down at the vials in his hand.

"I've split them… First through fourth year… and everything after," Draco said hesitantly, and Hermione nodded. 

Draco unstoppered the first vial and emptied the mercury-like whisps into the dish. 

"Ready?" 

He held out his hand to her then, palm up. She nodded as she skimmed her hand along his and laced their fingers. She watched a blush grow on his appearance anew as she felt hers heat too.

"Granger… I'm sorry. For all of this," he whispered as he lowered their hands into the Pensieve's liquid.


	12. First Through Fourth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi lovies!
> 
> So i sort of succeeded this weekend. I got a few good chapters ahead on this story, and hopefully will be able to finish this up by end of next week!
> 
> a few notes:
> 
> I've changed the category to hurt/comfort, because as I was writing, it got a bit dark.
> 
> I want to mention trigger warnings now for the next 5 chapters:
> 
> \- severe depression, self harm, alluded attempted suicide, torture, death, therapy, utter plain sadness, fighting / battles
> 
> I hope this does not deter you from reading the rest of thia story, which is 100% a HEA.
> 
> As always, I do not own Harry Potter in any way, and I am not making any money from this story.

Hermione felt her stomach fall as they dropped down, like falling into a dream. Although she had experienced it before, it felt simply like the first time. Her heart plunged into her stomach as her body braced for sudden impact. When their feet landed on stable ground, she immediately recognized the wood of the Hogwarts Express.

The compartment door directly in front of her slid open, and a youthful Draco sauntered out, sealing it behind him. His hair was slicked so tight to his scalp that he looked uncomfortable. His robes were flawlessly pressed and looked wholly unsullied. If he held his nose any higher, she might have been able to see straight up. He was quite a stark divergence from the man who he became, standing alongside her.

A moment later, she viewed her more naive self run headlong into him, stumbling backward as he dramatically slumped against the compartment hatch. 

"Sorry!" she screeched, tumbling to the ground with a noisy thud. And Hermione's breath caught realizing she could hear their voices.

"Pay attention, would you!" a very self-important looking Draco scoffed as he stuck out a hand to help her up. She accepted graciously, and he lifted her quite quickly from the train floor. 

"Sorry. I'm Hermione Granger," she said, smiling lightly with a blush on her cheeks as she held out her hand. 

"Draco Malfoy, and pay attention next time," he said plainly, not deigning to accept her handshake. 

"Have you seen a toad around? A boy Neville has lost his."

"Why would I care about a bloody toad?" 

"Well, I suppose you wouldn't… Okay, then bye…" Hermione said as her brow furrowed, stepping around him and marching away as the memory faded.

"I can hear them?" The real Hermione muttered. 

"Yeah?" Draco responded with a question on his voice.

"I couldn't hear Harry's…"

The memories shifted by swiftly, and Hermione watched the young Draco sorted into Slytherin. The reception at their table was vastly different than she had seen hers. Older students greeting him with stiff nods and slight smiles rather than cheers and full-blown grins. She could see he didn't look entirely pleased but sat stiffly and proud regardless. 

Memories moved by then, and they were all standing next to brooms, some students appearing wholly unable to raise them, herself included. Draco and Harry got into some sort of altercation. Both took off on their brooms as the teacher disappeared with a hurt Neville in tow. 

It was clear that they hadn't been friends from the start. They both appeared to hold contempt on their faces, but she didn't know why. Two young boys, who had likely just met, couldn't possibly hate each other so. 

A quick picture of a man clad in all purple screeching of a troll played before she was standing in the Great Hall again, but it was breakfast. 

"How'd they get house points overnight?" A young Pansy bemoaned.

"I heard they fought the troll," a stubby girl who resembled one of her Healers from St. Mungos squeaked.

"Please. As if those nitwits could handle a troll," the small Draco sneered as he rolled his eyes, a fog clouding the scene moments after.

When the mist dissipated, she was staring at herself through a hazy window, alongside Harry, Hagrid, and Ron. A rather immaculate, large egg burst open, revealing a baby dragon that started to breathe fire. She scarcely had an opportunity to process before the fog rose, and she found herself, Harry, and curiously, Neville, being punished by McGonagall. How Ron had managed to escape punishment, she wasn't sure. 

Draco's young face looked highly smug until he was also served detention. 

Hermione laughed as the memory faded away. "You deserved it, tattle-tale," she smiled, and he just chuckled somewhat. 

When the memory became clear once more, the quad was tracking through a dark, ominous forest at the heels of a familiar half-giant. Hagrid, Harry, and Neville were several steps ahead of her and Draco. She watched him gaze at the small version of herself with a longing stare before she fired him a scathing glance.

"May I help you, Malfoy?" She barked quietly. He looked taken aback for a moment before a leer fell over his features. 

"Enjoying Hogwarts? Probably loads better than whatever muggle hovel you squat in normally."

"My home is very nice, thank you very much!" Her bushy head of hair whirled and smacked his cheek insignificantly as she twisted her head to meet his eyes.

"Merlin, that hair. Can't you contain it?" 

"You deserved it," she said resolutely, and the small Draco went silent as they walked. But only for a beat.

"You could crack a galleon with those teeth, Granger," he sneered, but it didn't have any heat behind it.

"You know, my mum says when young boys make fun of you, it's because they like you."

"Ha! As if I could like you." He tried to look haughty, but a deep blush spread across his boyish face. 

"Well, I don't like you very much either," she shrugged and walked forward, catching up with Harry.

The memory shifted again, and she observed Draco and Harry marching through the forest alone, a large dog by their side. When the dog growled, all light seemed to move toward a shadowed figure hovered over a…

"A unicorn?!" Hermione gasped. "They're real?!" 

"Very," Draco muttered next to her. 

As the hooded figure arose languidly, she saw shining, sparkling silver liquid falling from its jaws. She glanced down and saw the unicorn's neck ripped open as it flinched, the life leaving its eyes slowly.

"It was keeping him alive," Draco muttered quietly as the memory faded, the younger him running away in pure fright. Hermione didn't necessarily know what he meant but shook it off.

When the light returned, they were on the train again, and Pansy was angrily traversing the compartment's width. Blaise and Draco sat bored, fiddling with boxes of sweets. 

"It's absurd! They break a dozen school rules and get points? We were to win the cup!"

"Give it a rest, Pansy. You've been at it all night. It's Potter. Of course, he wins. Probably just cried in that dungeon," Blaise shrugged, stuffing a sweet in his mouth. 

"Weasel probably wet himself," Draco laughed as he snapped the head of a chocolate frog with his teeth.

"This is serious! We were robbed!" Pansy screeched. 

"Oh, relax, Pans," Blaise sniggered as Draco let out a loud guffaw.

Pansy huffed and tossed a magazine at them as the memory shifted again. 

When the world settled, she was standing in a dark wooden office, a tall, blonde-haired man towering over Draco with a look of disgust on his features. He resembled Draco greatly, but the way his face carried contempt distorted him into ugliness.

"You can't even best a mudblood in lessons? You are no son of mine," he spat as he backhanded Draco across the face. Hermione heard herself gasp at the contact. 

"That's awful," she declared, watching a beautiful woman, who she assumed was his mother, comfort the 12-year-old image of her company. 

"Lucius has done far worse since," came Draco's sullen reply. 

A fog penetrated the scene, and when it lifted, she found herself standing in a crowded bookstore. It felt familiar, but she hadn't recollected it from Harry's memories. 

Draco's father barred the door as the younger versions of herself, Ginny, Harry, and Ron traveled forward. Draco stood up the stairs skimming through a book, out of which he swiftly ripped a page, returning it on the shelf. 

"You must forgive me, Mr. Potter, your scar is legend... as is the wizard who gave it to you," Draco's father drawled as he dragged Harry closer. Using a snakehead cane, he shifted Harry's hair from his forehead with a leveled stare.

"Voldemort killed my parents… He was nothing more than a murderer..." Harry bit back, sternly. 

"You must be brave to mention his name. Or are you foolish?" 

"Fear of a name only increases fear of the thing itself," her younger self declared, with full confidence and a measure of anger written on her features. 

"And that must make you…" Draco's father sneered at her childhood self with a look of pure disgust on his face, "Ms. Hermione Granger." He spat her name like it was the most repulsive string of words he had ever vocalized. The elder blonde man looked over her shoulder as Draco nodded, a contemplative look on his face as he gazed over Hermione's back.

"Oh yes, Draco has told me all about you. And your parents… Muggles, aren't they?"

Hermione studied her younger self and noticed her brows furrowed in concern. If she had never met this man, why would he immediately hate her? And what did her parents have to do with anything? Was it because they were muggles? 

"Associating with muggles?" Draco's father had a nasty sneer, which made Draco's own look childish as he addressed Arthur Weasely, who had stepped up. And she had her answer. "And I thought your family could sink no lower." 

She watched as Mr. Weasley reared back and struck Lucius in the face. She heard Draco laugh next to her and felt a measure of vindication fall into her gut. That such a cruel man had gotten retaliation that he so profoundly deserved.

"Because I'm a muggle-born?" she muttered to the real Draco as the memories shifted. 

"It's why the war was fought, Granger. You'll see." He sounded meek, and his response surprised her. 

The war was fought over muggle-borns? What could possibly be so wrong with muggle-born witches and wizards that would warrant a war?

When the next recollection settled, she was crowded by a slew of children holding brooms. Half were clad in red and the other half in green. Older students were taunting one another, insults hurling back and forth until Hermione and Ron approached. 

"At least no one on the Gryffindor team had to buy their way in. They got in by talent," the childish version of herself snarked with a smirk on her face. 

"No one asked your opinion, you filthy little mudblood," the junior Draco growled, an angry sneer on his face as he pressed toward her threateningly. 

The group around them gasped, and an uproar of arms and fists drowned out the confusion on her face. "Woah!" "Malfoy!" "What did you call her?" The ensemble of students resounded as the fog grew over the memory. 

"Mudblood? Your father said that a moment ago," she inquired as the dream faded away. 

"Derogatory term for a muggle-born…" he whispered. 

"Racism?"

"In its... purest form…" 

The scene stirred once more, and they sat in a classroom as Professor McGonaggal spoke, "Salazar Slytherin wished to be more selective of the students admitted to Hogwarts. He believed magical learning should be kept in all magical families. Or, as we know, purebloods." 

She watched as the two younger versions of themselves met eyes, her's in anger and Draco's in haughtiness. McGonagall spoke further about a Chamber of Secrets, and a monster that lied within meant to cleanse the school of muggle-borns. 

The memory shifted, and she watched the juvenile Draco flying full speed next to Harry. Both of their arms outstretched as the crowded stands roared in cheer. Moments later, Draco was thrown from his broom, as "Gryffindor wins!" rang out around her. 

The memory turned, and she remarked an irate Lucius backhand Draco across the face once more. 

"Useless! You can't win when you've got a better broom? You're a Malfoy, boy! Start acting like one!" Lucius shouted. 

"I called her a mudblood the other day..." Draco said quietly, and she noticed he was striving not to cry. 

"Pitiful," his father spat as he backhanded him once more before the memory shifted away. 

When color faded back, she was pacing through an eerily quiet section of the library. The childhood Draco was peering around a stack, observing her with an intense gaze. He accidentally bumped a cart, a large text thudded to the floor, and her younger self yelped. 

"Who's there?" she murmured, training her glowing wand toward the sound. Draco scurried back, driving his back against the stacks out of her wand light. "I heard you. Who's there?" she whispered louder. 

Draco threw a crumpled bit of parchment to the floor and ran away as the memory faded.

"Another boy was frozen today, that's like…" she heard a small, chubby boy mutter as the memory grew clearer. "Like five with that Granger girl," he said as he shoved a cake into his mouth. 

"One less mudblood then…" Draco spoke softly. He appeared perplexed as he gazed into the emptiness of the flames in the hearth. 

When the memory slipped away, a wooden office filled her sights again. Hermione watched as a cane connected with the side of Draco's face as his mother flinched.

"You are worthless, boy!" Lucius growled as he struck the young Draco again. "You could do nothing to stop Potter from playing the hero? From stealing my elf?" He thumped his face again, and Draco fell to the ground, sobbing. As he kicked Draco in the stomach, the beautiful woman stepped between them. 

"Enough, Lucius!" she screeched, and she bent to run her hand down Draco's face. 

"Get rid of this," Lucius intoned as he pitched a book with a hole in the center at Draco as he lay crying on the ground, the memory falling away moments later. 

"Narcissa, it seems your deranged cousin has escaped Azkaban," Lucius said blankly, as a beautiful dining room fell into her view.

Hermione noticed the paper he folded and placed on the table. A scraggly-haired dirty man screamed as his picture moved, noting him mad and highly dangerous. She recognized him almost immediately. It was Harry's godfather, Sirius. He was related to Draco? And he was an escaped prisoner?

"Interesting…" Draco's mother replied, no hint of emotion in her voice as the memory faded away. 

A large group of students trailed Hagrid into a large clearing when color returned. He seemed to disappear while Draco and Harry bickered anew. The two fought, as they frequently seemed to do, until Hagrid returned with a giant horse with the face and talons of a bird. Harry stepped forward, bowed, and was hoisted by Hagrid onto a giant bird-horse hybrid as it took flight.

The memory shifted somewhat, and Draco bowed before the creature, before slowly stroking the beast's head. 

"I bet you aren't scary at all, are you, you big brute?" the junior Draco spoke haughtily. "A bit hideous but not scary," he chortled, and his sidekicks laughed with him. Suddenly the creature reared onto its back legs and gashed open his arm. Draco screamed out in pain as he fell to the ground, shaking and clutching his arm. 

Hermione witnessed her younger self appear out of nowhere and shout, "Hagrid, he's hurt, he has to be taken to the hospital wing now" before the memory faded.

Glimpses flew by then of Malfoy in a sling. Ron cutting up his ingredients as they sat in front of a cauldron. A scraggly looking younger man with scars about his face teaching them spellwork. Giant spiders and snakes being turned into silly things and the class laughing, even Draco cracking a smirk against his will. Then in a fabric clad classroom, looking into teacups. Many other subjects shifted around her as she watched them brewing potions, arguing in the halls, students jinxing each other.

The memories slowed again, and she was sitting solo in the library. Draco approached her, somewhat cautiously and perched against her table, his arms crossed over his chest. 

"Granger." 

"What do you want, Malfoy?"

"Where are little Potty and Weasel?"

"I don't care where they are. Blame me for everything, won't listen to reason," Hermione huffed. "What do you want, Malfoy?" Her voice was angry, and she had a sneer on her face.

"Why so hostile, Granger?"

"You deserve it! Buckbeak was innocent, and you're having him killed! Over a fake injury!"

"I'm doing no such thing. I wasn't the one who informed Father. And when he found out, I urged him to leave the bloody bird alone!"

"You kil… Hang on. What?"

"It was my fault it attacked. I insulted it."

"That's… well, yes. It is!" 

"Whatever. And it's not a fake injury. Pomfrey said I was close to not being able to use my arm correctly…" he sneered. "So, I was going to tell you thank you, but maybe I won't."

"You're… welcome?"

Her younger self looked absolutely flummoxed as Draco pushed off her table, a disconcerted look on his face as the memory faded away. 

She could hear her voice before she saw the memory come fully into focus then.

"Werewolves? We're not meant to start nocturnal beasts for weeks." 

The shaggy black-haired man, who Harry had informed her was named Severus Snape, clicked on a slide projector with a stiff "quiet." Students murmured about where "Professor Lupin" was, and Hermione realized she had seen Teddy Lupin's father in prior memories. That he had been one of their teachers. 

Snape asked someone to describe the differences between an animagus and a werewolf. Her hand shot up into the air. He resolutely ignored her.

"He hated me, clearly," she sniffed, and the real Draco just chuckled somewhat.

Her younger self spouted the answer aloud, and she heard the childhood Draco howl as she articulated. Hermione let out a small laugh as the two younger versions of them met eyes, with slight smiles on their faces. She could tell her youthful self was attempting to not laugh at his antics, wanting too badly to hate him. But failing miserably. 

Hermione turned to the real Draco, and he offered her a narrow smile and a wink, the world shifting around her again.

As the scene resolved, she, Harry, and Ron stepped up behind Draco. He was standing alone, leaning against a monstrous rock with a pensive look on his face. 

"Oi, Malfoy, what are you doing here? Watching the murder you caused?" 

"Shut up, Weasel, you don't know what you're on about."

"Sure, I do," Ron screeched. 

"Ronald, stop. Leave him alone. He didn't..." she said. 

"I don't need your help, mudblood," the younger Draco sneered, but it had much less heat than his typical vehemence.

Her younger self's brow furrowed slightly as she gazed at him, and a wave of anger permeated her face slowly. She screeched that he was a foul, loathsome, evil little cockroach as she pressed to them threateningly. He seemed to quiver somewhat as she neared. 

Hermione felt a rumble of laughter bubble out of her mouth, the real Draco chuckled along with her. 

"Just wait."

She watched in hysteria as she inhaled deeply, turned, pulled back, and punched Draco in the face. Blood sprang from his nose as he began to cry, running away as the memory faded.

"No!" she howled aloud then. "Oh, thank you for showing me!" she choked out through uncontrolled laughter.

"You broke my nose, you know!"

"You deserved it," she laughed, and he simply nodded.

The memories shifted to students lined in sleeping bags in the Great Hall. Pausing only briefly before she observed Draco and his friends sitting in a train compartment again. 

"I can't believe he is a werewolf!" Pansy screeched as she attached herself to Draco. "My father is furious Dumbledore hired him! I'm sure yours is too, Drakey. Good thing, he was sacked." 

"Lupin," Draco said at Hermione's confused stare.

"Remus Lupin?" she breathed. He was a werewolf? And no one had told her that?

"Yes… He helped Sirius Black get into the castle. To get to Potter." 

"But Sirius was Harry's godfather. Why would they sack him for that? I saw happy memories of them… Harry is Remus' son's godfather."

"None of us knew the truth at the time..." Draco responded, somewhat apprehensively. 

Visions swirled as they spoke, and younger Draco fell into view as he met his mother on the train platform. His father was nowhere to be seen. 

"Hello, Mother," he stated as he gave her a light hug. His eyes searched the platform as his mother pressed a soft hand to his cheek.

"He… was busy," she spoke hesitantly.

"Lucius said that if I couldn't best you in grades, then he couldn't be my father…" Draco said with a sad look on his face. 

When she turned to him with a gloomy smile, they were dropped into an ornate box she recognized from her delve into Harry's consciousness. 

They were back at the Quidditch world cup. When she glanced around, she saw them all in the box together, including the Malfoy family. Somehow Harry had managed to leave that part out. She was only in the box briefly before the world spun, fire enveloping the tents that appeared around her. 

She regarded herself, Harry and Ron running toward a line of trees and remarked Draco leaning against one, a hint of hysteria on his features as they approached. 

"I told you to get her out of here," the younger Draco sneered, but his eyes were grave as he pointed directly at the younger version of herself. 

"Is that a threat, Malfoy?" Harry snapped. 

"What's that supposed to mean?" She shouted. 

"A warning. They're after muggles," he said resolutely as his mother appeared. 

She looked drained and as if something foul was painted under her nose. She stuck out her hand to Draco, and he stepped to her, whirling away as the memory went with them. 

A moment later, Draco and his mother were sitting quietly on a couch in a room she didn't recognize. He was reading a news article, and Hermione saw pictures of the campground as it burned. She saw a picture of an eerie mark, a skull with a snake coming from its mouth, floating in the sky.

"The Dark Mark…" Draco whispered. "Death Eaters attacked that night. That's why I warned you. But you lot didn't listen." 

Fog descended again, and she watched thoughts she knew. Girls dressed in blue robes, dancing through the aisles of the Great Hall as butterflies fluttered about. Boys dressed in cold weather gear, banging walking sticks on the ground that sparked with flames. A blue fire goblet spitting out 4 pieces of parchment and Dumbledore calling out students' names. Harry's included, much to the shock and disgust of many students about.

The next moment she was standing in a dark corridor, a plethora of students surrounding her. Someone noticeably absent, however, was Ron. She and Harry were standing close, chatting inaudibly, when Draco and a slew of other Slytherin students walked up.

"Like it, Potter?" the young Malfoy mocked, and she noticed a button on his chest. It was flashing back and forth between two messages, the second reading "Potter Stinks."

All the Slytherins around the hall were laughing as they stood behind him, Pansy and Blaise among them. If it hadn't already been clear, she was sure now that they had despised each other as young teens. The amount of squabbling the groups caused was extraordinary. And the fact that Harry had left it all out was... unfortunate.

"You must be in love, ferret," her younger self intoned. "Spending all your lonely hours creating buttons concerning Harry? Someone's got a crush." 

The rest of the students, sans Slytherins, started to chuckle uproariously. Draco's face rose in shock, and it nearly appeared as if he smiled. Only curtly before his face shed into a sneer. 

"You're the only one pinning after Scarhead. Sure you don't want a button? Might make your robes almost passable… mudblood," he sniggered, and the Slytherins about him laughed anew. But he looked somewhat troubled as he uttered the last word. As if he genuinely didn't want to degrade her. 

Harry withdrew his wand quite suddenly, and Draco scoffed, doing the same. 

"Go on then, Potty," he jeered. 

Blinding light flitted across the hallway as the two young boys hurled spells simultaneously. The bolts collided in midair, ricocheting off the other. One smacked directly into the younger version of herself and the opposite into one of the larger boys who flanked Draco.

When everyone burst into uproarious laughter, she noticed her teeth begin to grow. Her already too large teeth grew exponentially longer, well beyond her chin. When she had awoken from her coma, she had thought her parents had finally broken down. Eventually allowed her to get her teeth fixed. But it was clear now, a wayward spell had been the cause.

Pansy chortled loudly and began singing "beaver, beaver" before Hermione tucked tail and ran from the corridor, tears in her eyes. She noticed Draco's face drop somewhat before he straightened himself, laughing half-heartedly.

"Well… That wasn't nice," Hermione said quietly.

"I was a shit, Granger. For quite some time… we all were. You lot were just as bad as us." 

After watching Harry fly away with a dragon hurling after him, and the 4 students jumping into a lake, she found herself in a hallway. 

She was carrying a sign high above her head that read S.P.E.W - Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare. Despite the students that appeared to ridicule her for it, Draco, Pansy, and Blaise among them, she felt utterly proud. That her younger self was fighting for a marginalized group, promoting equality. Even Harry and Ron seemed to shy away as she shouted through the halls, shoving clipboards under students' noses.

"Went on a hunger strike," Draco said. "Apparently refused to eat the food the Hogwarts elves made."

His addition made her heart sing more. That she had been so determined, so righteous in her efforts. 

When the memories slowed again, she was standing at a reverse angle in the Great Hall, the Yule Ball decorations about her. Pansy had her arm deathly tight around Draco's as they stood with Blaise at their side. 

When Hermione strolled in the large boy's arm, she almost appeared to shine. As of the entire memory around her was somehow shaded gray except for her periwinkle dress and her glowing skin. She looked utterly radiant as her smile glimmered in the soft light. Her happy laugh filling the void of noise there had been. She noticed the youthful Draco's mouth fall open slowly, his eyes never leaving her. 

"Makes sense," the Draco standing next to her whispered. "You were the only person I could see that night."

Pansy huffed noisily, trying to pull his attention, but he didn't budge. She rushed off then, but Draco didn't pursue her. Blaise bent over and tucked his mouth shut, and that finally startled him. Blaise guffawed aloud as he clapped Draco on the back as the memory shifted away.

More images of the night fluttered through then. The crowded Great Hall littered with happy students, dancing and singing along to a band playing. Draco, Blaise, and Pansy enjoying themselves in a crowd of Slytherins. 

"Pluck up the courage and ask me before someone else does! And not as a last resort!" her own voice reverberated as Draco and his friends wandered out of the Great Hall doors. She yelled at Harry to go to bed and then sank to the stairs, in sobs as they walked by her through the corridor. 

"Looks like Weasel mucked up. Again," Blaise drawled. Draco's brow was furrowed, and his eyes trained to her as they walked through the corridor. 

People around her were gawking, and she felt ashamed watching her younger self weeping over such a selfish boy. Acting as though she hadn't just had the most excellent night of her life, all smiles. Letting an annoyance rule all of her emotions. Tears of embarrassment and ire welled in her own eyes as the memory slipped away in a haze.

When the fog settled again, her younger form was resting on a deep window seal, bathed in moonlight. She looked radiant, and it donned on her what Draco had meant. That this was how he saw her that night. Iridescent. Somewhat flawless. 

Her sniffles permeated the air around the alcove as Draco regarded her. He stood still for a moment, watching her, as his face shifted between anger, resentment, and longing. He sighed deeply and shuffled the few steps into her. 

"Granger," he uttered, surprising her as he turned, leaning against the ledge beside her, gazing downward at his shoes. 

"Go away, Malfoy," she whispered through tears. 

"No."

"Why are you even here? Come to kick me while I'm down? Hex me again?"

"You look beautiful tonight," he said rather quietly, a hint of red on the top of his ears. 

Her younger self looked slightly confused before a wave of deep anger formed over her appearance. 

"I'm in no mood for your cruel pranks, Malfoy!"

"No one is teasing here."

She scoffed as more tears slipped down her cheeks. Draco's ears reddened a bit more, but his eyes were still firmly planted on his footwear. The two were silent for a while, only her soft cries saturating the space. 

"How can you cry over Weasel?"

Hermione could feel tears pricking at her eyes, stinging to be released. She wanted to know the answer just as desperately as he had. She had wanted to understand since the awful evening she had been reintroduced to him.

"What's it to you, Malfoy?" 

"Merely questioning why someone as utterly brilliant as you would go for someone so undeserving," he shrugged. 

"And who are you to declare who's worthy of me?" 

"A casual observer," he whispered as his eyes finally met hers. 

She scoffed again as she skimmed a hand across her face, wiping away tears. "And just who is deserving? You?" 

"No, I'll likely never be," younger Draco shrugged somewhat, reaching up slowly and clearing a lone tear away from her face. His expression was wholly blue as he bowed, sweeping from her before she had a chance to respond. The memory slipping away with him. 

The real Hermione turned to the Draco next to her and tried to smile. Single tears were falling down each cheek, and he reached over, wiping both of them away. He held his hand on her face, and she leaned lightly into it, the pressure calming her somewhat. 

Memories blurred once more, and she found herself sitting in another stadium. The four students from the challenges walked into a giant maze, one by one, as the crowd cheered. 

Stirring again, she saw Harry sprawling over another one of the boys as the crowd around him exploded into applause. A man's voice buzzed out loudly, instructing everyone to stay in their seats. The assembly grew quiet as a younger Fleur's shriek reverberated through the grounds. 

"A boy has been killed," she heard as a stubby old man ran from the crowd screaming, "that's my boy!" with anguish filling his voice. 

The scene in front of her fell away, and she was greeted with an eerie picture. The student body seated quietly in the Great Hall, their faces crumpled in utter despair. Dumbledore was giving a speech, but the noise was muffled. Flags with a handsome boy's face fell from the ceiling, and the pain was palpable as the students around her cried silent tears. She turned to the real Draco, and he sighed. His eyes fell closed as he took a deep, measured breath. 

"He's saying Cedric was murdered. I… I guess I wasn't paying attention at the time," he said with a grimace. 

She looked back at the younger Draco, and she saw the same pain etched on his face. 

"He told us Voldemort was back that day… I think only three students in the room believed him. You, Potter… and me." 

"Voldemort? Harry said that earlier," she asked quietly. 

"You'll see, Granger…"

The scene shifted once more, but she didn't know where she was. The walls were elegant, and columns of pure marble spanned the room. The furniture was plush, regal, and art lined the walls. She assumed she was back in the Malfoy home, but she was slightly appalled by the extravagance. 

Draco and his mother hurried into the room and sealed the doors swiftly behind them. Fear was expressly written on their faces as the older woman embraced her son as he cried. 

"Dear… it is okay, we will survive this," Narcissa said. 

"He's here, mum! In our house! Father just let him in! I don't want to be a Death Eater!" Draco screamed as he forced from his mother's clutches. His face was distorted in terror as tears flowed down it.

"I won't allow it to happen!" She sounded so meek. 

"You don't have a choice. We don't have a choice!" Draco collapsed on the floor as the memory shifted away. 

\- - - - - - -

Hermione felt tugged back into reality, and she immediately sensed the small tears leaking from her eyes. She turned to look at Draco then. His eyes were vacant as he stared down into the dish in front of them, face contemplative. He seemed… troubled. 

"Why don't we take a break?" She muttered quietly. "Show me the garden?" 

He nodded slightly as he rose, tension apparent in his frame, the grim look hovering over his features. He flicked his wand, and the doors slid open, seeming to disappear altogether. He stepped out onto the terrace, hardly waiting for Hermione, lifting his chin toward the stars with his eyes closed. 

"I'm sorry," Hermione whispered as she met him, standing close to his form. She shivered somewhat at the night air and felt a warmness fall over her at the flick of Draco's wand.

"For what?" He inquired, turning his eyes toward her, brows joined in puzzlement.

"For what your father…"

"No." He sounded harsh as he snarled the word. 

"What…?"

"Do not apologize for his atrocities. None of that was your fault."

"But he…"

"Is a vile wizard. Who deserves everything that happened to him." Draco turned to her full-on then, a fierceness in his eyes that took her breath away. "You did nothing wrong."

She nodded slightly and felt a tear trickle down her cheek. He inhaled deeply and raised his thumb, rubbing away the wetness along her scar, lingering for a moment. 

"It's ugly…"

"I don't think so."

"It reminds me of them every time I see it."

"Then, you're fortunate. You get to remember their smiling faces every time you look in the mirror… You're lucky." 

His face was wholly darkened, nose slightly creased as she searched the scar over his features. Wondering where he had gotten his.

"So you had a crush on me," she said lightly, trying to sober the mood. 

"It was mutual, I assure you," he said peacefully, a fond smile gracing his lips as his face softened. 

"Then why was I with Ron?" 

"It's easier to show you…" he sighed somewhat, a pain etching itself back into his countenance only moments after disappearing. "Ready?" he questioned, and Hermione only nodded. 

She allowed herself to take in the magical scenery once more, the low moonlight glistening on the horizon, before she paced back into the couch. Draco trailed behind her, shutting the glass openings softly before he sat dejectedly on the sofa beside her. 

"It only gets worse from here, Granger…"

"I have to see the rest…" she said quietly, and he grimaced. "I… I can watch them alone if it is too much." 

'No," was his single answer as he held up the second vial. "Some of my best… and worst memories. All of my life's regrets and happiness all in one bottle…"

"Are you sure?" 

He responded simply by dumping the vial of silver whisps into the basin and holding out his hand. She hesitated only a moment before slipping her fingers between his, squeezing tightly. 

"Forgive me…" he muttered as he lowered their entwined hands into the vessel.


	13. And Everything After

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi lovies! 
> 
> As you may have noticed, some of th ememories Draco is sharing are straight out of cannon. And others are completely fab. That is where a lot of this chapter sits. Throwing canon somewhat out the window. 
> 
> My trigger warnings from the previous chapter still stand:  
> \- Severe depression, self harm, alluded attempted suicide, torture, death, therapy, utter plain sadness, fighting / battles 
> 
> I hope this does not deter you from reading the rest of this story, which is 100% eventual HEA. 
> 
> As always, I do not own anything related to Harry Potter and am not making any money from this story.

_"I have to see the rest…" she said quietly, and he grimaced. "I… I can watch them alone if it is too much."_

_'No," was his single answer as he held up the second vial. "Some of my best… and worst memories. All of my life's regrets and happiness all in one bottle…"_

_"Are you sure?"_

_He responded simply by dumping the vial of silver whisps into the basin and holding out his hand. She hesitated only a moment before slipping her fingers between his, squeezing tightly._

_"Forgive me…" he muttered as he lowered their entwined hands into the vessel._

* * *

  
  


The sensation of falling never ceased to amaze Hermione. She hadn't ridden a roller coaster, but her mother had explained the sentiment once. And she imagined this was it. When your stomach rose into your throat as you dangled over the precipice. When your heart sank into your gut the moment you dropped off the face of the world, holding on for dear life.

When her feet thumped to the ground, they stood in the Hogwarts Express yet again.

Seconds later, a gravely seeming Draco wandered into her vision, a drastically stark departure to the first memory of him she had witnessed. He looked drained, eyes rimmed with black and skin pale. His hair was somewhat unkempt, and his face unshaven. He thrust open a train compartment door and shuffled inside with a dejected look on his face.

Her younger self was seated solo, reading a textbook at a table on the opposite edge of the car. She didn't even glance up to acknowledge his presence as he hobbled closer. He hesitated somewhat, looking at the seat across from her, before slumping down next to her.

"Granger," he said quietly, and she startled.

"Hello… Malfoy?" She questioned with a raised eyebrow.

"Have a good summer?"

"Yes… It was fine... You?"

Her lips held a confused smile as she leaned forward as her eyes roamed his face. The young Draco wouldn't look at her, only forward.

"No," he said simply.

"Are you…" she started, but a large group of students entered the train car then, and the noise cut her off.

The memory stirred, and they were dropped into a classroom full of the students she had just seen sitting about tables. She noticed herself sitting beside Ron and wanted to gag.

"Alright, last thing. In the name of inner house unity, we will be changing up our partnering responsibilities. You will all be paired with prefects from different houses," an older student she didn't recognize spoke.

She heard Ron groan somewhat loudly, but her younger self had a broad smile on her lips. The older students read out the pairings and assigned rounds, whatever those may have been. Ron was matched with a boy from Hufflepuff, and Pansy with a girl from Ravenclaw.

"Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy. Tuesday and Thursday evening rounds," the older girl spoke.

She observed Ron lean over and mutter something that appeared to make her cross. She yearned to hear what he said because a moment later, she rose sharply from her seat in a temper. Her feet rang out loudly as she stomped across the room, dropping into the place next to Draco, an annoyed sneer on her face.

"Hi," she growled.

"Don't sound so happy," he monotoned.

"Oh, I don't care about this," she snarled, waving a hand between them. "Ron's just a git."

"Been telling you that for years," Draco shrugged with a self-satisfied grin on his face.

"Meet in the Great Hall Tuesdays and Thursdays after dinner?" She proposed, somewhat sternly.

"Fine."

"Fine," she replied and forced out a sharp breath, stood, and stomped from the room as the memory faded.

Remnants of recollections glittered by then. A toad-like woman giving a speech in the Great Hall. Then wandering through the hallways, sneering at everything she could, separating students, or tightening their ties with her wand. Students being punished, professors being investigated. The toad-like woman seemed unquestionably vile, and Hermione couldn't fathom why Draco decided to show her this.

As those memories flashed away, visions of she and Draco penetrated her sights, much slower than the memories before.

They looked to continually walk the halls together, somewhat silent. As the images streamed by, Hermione observed as they started to converse more. Eventually halting in the hallways and having what seemed like heated debates, some of which she heard.

They had argued in one memory of house elves' rights. Almost verbatim the argument they had last night. She chuckled somewhat as she watched him huff in defeat, throwing his arms up with exasperation as he stormed off. Her younger self beamed a smugness, and she could taste the pride of her win radiating off her grin.

They argued over classes. Arithmancy and alchemy. Potions theory and something she clearly didn't like, Divination. But their exchanges eventually ceased tumbling into fights. They both seemed invigorated afterward, leaving each other with small smiles on their faces.

She noticed their closeness, the nearness of their forms, as time flitted by. Their dispositions seemed to unwind, their appearances stretching into smiles more often than not.

She followed a plethora of memories as they gradually faded in and out. Of them sitting next to one another, watching over younger children in their desks. Of them reading beside one another, both within the library and without.

Small smiles on their faces while they walked the halls. Draco would nudge her occasionally, his hand lingering near hers, and her face would flush vibrantly red. At one point, he pulled his collar aside, and on the inside of his lapel was a small button that read S.P.E.W. Her younger self grinned broadly, squealing slightly as she embraced him, which transformed his entire pale body pink.

At one point, it looked like they had decorated the castle for Christmas together. He playfully wrapped trimming around her head as she giggled. Throwing bows at one another and covering each other in garland. Until Hagrid stepped in to check on them, both springing apart with hidden smiles.

In one set of recollections, they were lingering in the snow, strolling side by side down a pathway. Then ambling along shop fronts together, badges pinned to their cloaks. They rested together in the back of a pub, sharing a frothy caramel-colored drink. Paced aisles in a books store, him standing close to her as he pulled down a text she couldn't reach, her face entirely red.

" _Some of the best months of my life_ ," _Draco spoke, causing her breath to hitch._

" _We… we were dating_?"

" _Not officially..._ "

Memories slowed entirely, and she was standing back in the Malfoy residence. Draco and his mother sat next to one another, unsettled expressions on their faces.

"Happy Christmas, darling…" his mother uttered as she handed him a gift.

He didn't open it, simply placed it beside him as he nodded.

"You'll be going back to Hogwarts with Severus tomorrow."

"What? Mother why? I want to stay here. I want to… to protect you."

"And I, you. So do not challenge me on this. You will return to Hogwarts tomorrow."

"Mother!"

"Enough! I am your _mother_ , and you will do as you are told."

As she spoke, the memory faded away. Draco slipped into view as he studied a newspaper, utter vehemence on his features. It declared a breakout. A slew of prisoners had escaped from Azkaban prison, and the paper blamed it on Sirius Black once again.

Draco crumpled the paper with anger on his face and tossed it into a cold hearth. He withdrew his wand, and the paper ignited into flames as the fire roared to life.

Memories fluttered by again. The toad-like woman pinned a badge to his chest, alongside other Slytherin students. But he didn't seem happy about it. Plaque after plaque of rules were hammered into the wall about the Great Hall. She could see on students' faces they were miserable. The school appeared much more lethargic and bitter than she had seen it previously.

Hermione watched as the younger Draco seemed to trail her in the halls until one memory she walked into a door, and it vanished behind her. After that, he seemed to linger in that area. When other Slytherin students would walk by, he would point them in opposite directions.

Memories slowed again, and she and Draco were walking along an empty corridor at night. They weren't talking much, and both had somewhat grim expressions on their faces.

"Granger, your lot needs to be more careful," he said somewhat randomly.

"What?" The younger her looked shocked.

"They're getting close."

"Getting close to what?"

Draco grabbed her arm, twirling her to a stop, and stepped into her space. He looked reasonably annoyed as he towered over her, his face wrinkled with irritation. She didn't seem afraid, though, instead somewhat empowered.

"Do you think me dumb, Granger?"

"Of course not. I'm well aware of how irritatingly ingenious you are."

She squared her shoulders then, puffing out her chest. Draco leaned a bit closer into her as she did. They were mere centimeters apart, and Hermione thought she could feel her younger self's galloping heartbeat.

"Then stop acting dim! You lot are _not_ stealthy. And I can only cast them off your trail for so long before they find that door. Be. More. Careful," he growled.

Shock befell her as she watched her younger self grip his shirt, push onto her toes, and press their mouths together. He was entirely mystified, his eyes going round, and his back stiffening for a moment before his faculties kicked in. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her in closer as his eyes closed. They kissed for some time, both of their bodies relaxing into one another as they did. It was nothing heated, just a sweet first kiss between teenagers.

" _And the best moment of my life…_ "

" _It was mutual_ ," _she whispered somewhat, her heart pounding in her chest._

She watched memories of them sore by again. The first time they held hands as they walked down an empty corridor, both of their faces pink from embarrassment. What she assumed was their second kiss. And then their third. Sitting in a quiet alcove together, hands clasped, as Draco pressed small kisses to her forehead, cheeks, and neck. All while she beamed with redness over her cheeks, giggling.

More memories shifted by then, and in the end, the toad-like woman was blasting a hole through the wall she knew well. Students scattered, and those who had been anointed with pins chased them. Using spells to trip and trap them, hauling them up with sheer happiness on their faces.

Draco was standing in an alcove, and as Hermione ran by, he pulled her in.

"Draco? What happened?" she screeched.

"I told you they were close! Bloody Edgecombe sang like a bird."

"Oh, that little… little wench! I've got to go. They'll get Harry!"

She made to move from the alcove, but Draco pulled her back in, somewhat pinning her against the wall.

"Just go, Granger. Go back to the tower."

"No! If she has Harry, then she has me! Take me to her office!"

"No!"

"I'll just go myself! You might as well get credit for it!"

"I don't want credit for this!"

"Then why join the Inquisitorial Squad?!"

"To protect you, dammit! She… she's one of _them_."

Everything fell away then, and she found herself in a large chamber. Draco's father was sitting in the middle, bound to a chair with multiple wands trained to him. He held a nasty sneer on his face as a man in a bolo hat spoke.

"Lucius Abraxas Malfoy, you stand accused of being a Death Eater and willingly participating in, including but not limited to: torture, the attempted murder of one Ms. Hermione Granger and one Mr. Neville Longbottom and countless muggles, breaking into the Ministry, bribery, possession of dark artifacts. How do you plead?"

"Not guilty," Lucius snarled.

_"It took them less than 10 minutes to convict him," the real Draco said. "You lot dueled him and several other Death Eaters. You nearly died... Sent at least 6 of Voldemort's inner circle to Azkaban. The world learned_ **_he_ ** _was back that night."_

The scene shifted before she could respond, and they were standing in a large, marble-clad room.

A disgusting, skeleton-like man was hunting back and forth in front of Draco and Narcissa, who shook lightly on their knees. He looked venomous, his entire face shrouded in anger. His eyes were blood-red with pupils only large enough to barely discern; his nose almost non-existent, simply slits against his flat face. His head was completely bald, and his skin seemed scaly. He looked like a serpent endeavoring to be a human, his skin grayer than someone long dead.

She felt her body shudder at his movement. At only his image.

" _That's him…" Draco said next to her, but she already knew._

There was no doubt in her mind that this was the man he had been so afraid of. The man who had killed Harry's parents. The man who had commenced a war.

"You will take the mark, boy," he spat, his shrill, cold voice vibrating in Hermione's ears like nails on a chalkboard.

"My Lord," Draco's mother pleaded.

"Cissy! It's an honor!" a ragged-looking woman spoke. Hermione recognized the woman from the front of the paper Draco had incinerated. She looked strikingly similar to Andromeda now that she was slightly less dirty, her hair somewhat clean.

_"My aunt Bellatrix. Mother's sister," Draco said quietly._

"My Lord, please… he's just a boy," his mother begged again.

"Lucius was his age. He will take the mark, or you both will die," Voldemort said coldly, and a shudder ran up Hermione's spine at its insidiousness.

"My… My Lord…"

"Mother, it's fine…"

"Smart boy, Draco. Already more intelligent than your _pathetic_ excuse of a father. Your arm."

"Draco, no!" His mother cried, flinching toward him.

Voldemort's entire form quivered with rage, his eyes nearly glowing. He pointed his wand at Draco's mother, with a vicious downturn of his wrist, and shrieked, " _Crucio."_

Narcissa's body went rigid as it sank to the floor. She was seizing rather viciously, her eyes wide and teeth clenched. Draco's aunt had a delighted look on her face, and it made Hermione sick. She was _happy_ this madman was torturing her own sister.

"Stop! Please, stop! Here!" Draco shouted as he shoved his arm out. "Please!"

Voldemort snarled somewhat as his wand lowered. Narcissa's body stilled, but her eyes stared vacant, shedding tears she didn't seem to have control over.

"You dare to command me, scum?" Voldemort sneered, lowering his face into Draco's.

"No… no, My Lord..."

"Pitiful, just like your father."

Voldemort clutched Draco's left arm and shredded his sleeve. An instant later, he shoved the tip of his wand into Draco's forearm, and Draco screamed in pain. His face distorted, falling into despair as he started to cry. His aunt was cackling loudly, clapping her hands as he fell to the floor. Only a few seconds more and the memory went completely black.

When the color returned, they were standing in the Great Hall as Dumbledore stepped up to his podium. He seemed to chatter on and on, but the words were muffled as they had been when he spoke of Cedric's passing. Draco sat, completely alone, surrounded by no one, staring down into the empty plate in front of him. It was clear he hadn't been paying attention again, and there was utter sorrow printed on his face.

"I'm reminded of a sobering fact," Dumbledore's voice finally sounded. "Every day, every hour, this very minute, Dark forces attempt to penetrate this castle's walls. In the end, their greatest weapon is you."

She looked down at a sodden Draco who's face crumpled as tears filled his eyes. His body stiffened as his eyes shined with unshed emotion.

" _He was talking to me_ ," the real Draco spoke as the visions shifted.

They were back in the Potions classroom, but Snape was noticeably absent, as the memory settled. She watched her hand fling into the air as it regularly did, and a chubby, stout old man called on her. She explained potions, names which she had never heard, including a love potion.

"For instance, I smell… citrus, and parchment and spearmint toothpaste," Hermione said, swaying her head as she stepped back into the standing mass of students. And she recognized the scents. The ones that had lingered in her nose for the past week. The smell of the man who stood beside her watching on.

Hermione regarded the younger Draco then. His eyes were trained to her, sadness inscribed in his characteristics.

"Close your mouth, mate," the younger Blaise's voice whispered around them as he drifted into Draco's space, nudging him somewhat.

" _The only thing I could smell that day was vanilla and lavender," the real Draco said, and her brows knit at his profession. That her scent had been the one to assail him._

The memory shifted, and Harry was presented with a small vial, everyone else looking worse for wear. Draco stalked from the room, down an empty corridor, and perched against a wall within an alcove. His eyes closed, and his face contorted as he tried to breathe deeply.

Her younger self stepped in hesitantly a moment later, and it frightened him.

"Draco…" she said quietly.

"Get away from me," he growled.

"Are you okay?"

"Get away from me, Granger."

"I saw the papers…"

"And it's your lot's fault."

" _Our_ fault? You think that was _our fault?_ That adult wizards and a deranged witch attacked us?"

"Just leave, Granger," he said, anguish spanning the length of his body.

"No! I won't! I know something is wrong. I didn't hear from you all summer. I can help you!"

"If there's something wrong, you have nothing to do with it. You don't own me. I don't need your pity or your help."

"What happened? We were… so close last year."

"You thought that was real?" He said quietly, and she saw tears forming in his eyes. "It was all a rouse, Granger. We had a good laugh about it in the common room. As if I could love a _mudblood_."

Her younger face quivered with unshed turmoil, before turning to white-hot rage.

"I hate you…" she whispered, small tears falling from her eyes as she swept from the alcove.

Draco sank to the ground and sobbed. He was shaking when she turned her eyes to the real Draco next to her. He had a distressed grimace on his face, and he simply mouthed " _I'm sorry_." She thought if he had tried to speak, he might have cried.

Flashes of memories drifted by. Hermione watched Draco put a spell on a beautiful woman in a bar, and hand her coin. She watched as he gave her a bottle of mead and instructed her to deliver it. Then transferred her a thinly wrapped package somewhile later.

Memories flittered by of him in a room full of junk. He spent a fair amount of his time there, messing with an ornate cabinet, putting apples or birds within. He appeared to be mending it in between long bouts of crying or sitting on the floor, blankly staring at nothing.

Pansy's soft voice could be heard, telling him a girl named Katie had been cursed. Then Blaise's voice booming, raging that Ron had been poisoned and demanding Draco tell him what was going on. He merely broke down in tears in response, and Blaise simply seemed to know his best mate was in deep trouble. 

When Draco's gaunt face materialized in a mirror as he bent over a sink in a bathroom, crying, she felt sick. He was talking to a young female ghost who floated beside him. She couldn't make out their words, but the door slamming open startled her. Harry appeared within her vision, anger marring his handsome features.

"I know you hexed her, Malfoy. And you poisoned Ron!" Harry shouted.

Draco fired a spell toward the door, and it singed the stone. An all-out battle ensued between the two, toilets and sinks bursting under their assault, littering the room with water. They narrowly missed each other multiple times, each explosion causing Hermione's breath to catch in her throat. She knew they both lived, but it was difficult to watch the murderous intent on both their faces.

"Sectumsempra!" Harry exploded, and the spell hit Draco directly in the chest, throwing him back into the pooling water.

His body started to seize, his breaths coming out jagged as red soaked through his shirt, seeping into the water below him. The memory began to fade in and out, blackness falling over them. Before the memory faded completely, Snape's voice rang out around them, repeatedly chanting until the vision went black.

_"He nearly killed me," the real Draco spoke as tears streamed down Hermione's face. "Some days, I wish he had. I deserved it."_

When color filled the scene, she was sitting alone at a library table as Draco observed her from the stacks. She had books spread about her, but she was peering out the window to her right, a contemplative look on her face. Draco had a distressed appearance as tears slowly dropped from his eyes.

" _This was the last time I saw you… I knew you'd be there. I… I had to see you one more time_."

The memories shifted suddenly, and she was standing on dark stairs watching the younger Draco tremble. He took shuddering steps up the last few stairs, his wand drawn, and came upon an open-air tower. It had old astronomy equipment stationed around a wooden loft. But what caught her attention was the elderly man gazing out over the banister of a broad ledge.

"Expelliarmus!" Draco cried with a tremble in his voice, and the old man's wand flew from his hand.

Dumbledore turned slowly, a knowing look on his face. "Good evening, Draco… What brings you here on this fine Spring evening?"

"Shut up, old man! Who else is here?"

"I might ask you the same question," Dumbledore spoke smoothly, and Hermione overhead the sounds of fighting in the background noise. Draco didn't answer as he took small steps forward, his wand shaking. 

"Draco, you should get on with it," Dumbledore demanded. "Should your counterparts be defeated, you wouldn't want to fail."

"Shut up!" Draco trembled.

"How did they get in?"

"The vanishing cabinet in the Room of Requirement. I've mended it."

"Brilliant, truly. A much better effort than your other attempts on my life." Draco seemed shocked. "Oh, yes, Draco. I am very aware of your failed endeavors. Ms. Granger would be distraught with your use of her spells."

"She has nothing to do with this!"

"That, I do not believe," Dumbledore delivered. "I believe you are quite fond of her."

"She's got nothing to do with this…" Draco echoed, his voice cracking.

"Draco, I know of another young man who made all the wrong decisions. I can help you, the Order can help you. And your mother."

"I don't want your help! Don't you understand! I have to kill you!" Draco's lips quivered in fear as tears fell freely from his eyes. Hermione watched as his wand began to drop somewhat, his resolution failing him. "Or he'll kill me…" The tears in his eyes and the sound of his voice were heartbreaking.

"You have had several moments to take my life, Draco," Dumbledore said, taking a step toward him. "I have protected you this year. I have known all along. And I can protect you now."

Draco lowered his wand completely, dangling it by his side as his shoulders sagged. The tears streaming down his face were loud, his sobs permeating over the noise of conflict below.

A group of Death Eaters invaded the space then, and Hermione noticed a few from his prior memories. The deranged woman Bellatrix cackled loudly and encouraged him as the men following her howled. They shoved him, prodded him, degraded him, as his aunt chortled loudly.

"No," a nasally voice drawled as Severus Snape ascended the stairs.

"Severus… Please," Dumbledore muttered as all eyes fell to him. His face was pleading, acceptance falling onto his feature.

"Avada Kedavra," Snape chanted, flicking his wand as a jet of green light burst from it and struck Dumbledore's chest.

Hermione felt like she couldn't breathe. Her heart felt as though it was being ripped from her chest as Dumbledore's eyes went blank, and he fell backward over the railing. She didn't know the man who had guided her education had been murdered. Or that the man Harry had named one of his children after had killed him.

Tears leaked uncontrolled from her eyes as the memories shifted again, bile raising her throat and making her want to retch. Her body shook uncontrolled, and grief and anguish coursed through her. She heard Draco sob next to her, and a desire to slap him and take him in her arms all at once built.

When the memories settled, she was back in the Malfoy sitting room, and Bellatrix's cackling brought her attention. Shakily she lifted her head and observed all three Malfoys on their knees, bound. Lucius looked haggard, wearing only thin scraps of fabric, his entire body covered in filth. Narcissa was weeping silently, cowering as her form shook.

Voldemort was stalking back and forth in front of them. His face was deadly, and Hermione wished she could reach back into the past and strangle him. Take his breath directly from his lungs.

"Pathetic," Voldemort spat, leaning down into the younger Draco's face. He was shaking, hands trembling where they were bound behind his back. "Just like your father," his hissed.

Voldemort immediately righted himself, and with a downturn of his wand, he spat " _Crucio_ " loudly. Draco's body fell prone on the floor, writhing and convulsing as the spell coursed through. His mother flinched toward him as Bellatrix shot a spell at her, and she froze, pain carved in her appearance.

"Crucio," Voldemort cackled loudly again, and Draco's body seized, bending unnaturally backward as blood began to drip from his nose and eyes. It was only a moment more before everything went dark.

A plethora of memories flew by in haste after that. Hermione observed him tortured various times. Watched a giant, vulgar beast of a snake swallow a woman whole after Voldemort murdered her. Cried as they celebrated uproariously within the emerald halls of the Ministry, destroying a center fountain with glee. Winced when Lucius begged Draco to torture a man lying prone on the ground, Voldemort hovering over him with a nasty sneer.

One specific memory stuck out to her, of Bellatrix abusing her own nephew. When Draco was lying still on his back, tears slipping from his eyes, she pulled out a knife. Running it across his face, it split the skin, and Hermione wanted to scream. Knowing that Draco had to look in the mirror and remember his own aunt's torment was repulsive.

When the memories slowed, she found herself in a pub. A flash of familiar red hair called her attention to a secluded booth. Ron sat in a far corner of a pub, shielding his face as he threw a hood over his head.

A thin, pale Draco slid into the booth across him, and Ron's face jumped in shock. He tore his wand from his pocket and pointed it straight into Draco's chest.

"I should kill you," Ron snarled.

"No, you should get out of town."

"What?" Ron seemed shocked as his heated gaze on Draco wavered. He peered about the bar with a note of fear in his eyes.

"You lot need to get out of this town," Draco drawled again.

"It's just me, Malfoy. What are you on about?"

She noticed Draco's face rise in surprise then. His eyes bulging a bit round as his brows knit together.

"She's not with you?" He said on a single breath.

"Who? What are you doing here? Regret running away to Vol…"

"Don't say his name, fool!" Draco roared as he slammed a furious hand on the table. No one other than Ron seemed to hear him.

"I'm not afraid of him! Vol…"

"No!" He shouted once more. "There's a taboo on his name! They'd be here in a blink of an eye if you uttered it."

Ron appeared wholly shocked as Draco articulated, his wand falling slightly as he processed the unequivocal warning.

"Why are you telling me this? Why not turn me in?"

"Tell her. Keep her safe. They're looking for you everywhere. And if they find you, they won't hesitate to kill you. Get out of here. Go back into hiding."

Draco stood from the table then, sweeping away from Ron, who only stared after him in shock.

As the scene in front of her faded, emotion swirled inside her as though it may overwhelm her. The fear. The rage. The sadness. She could hardly process any of it before Draco spoke beside her.

" _I'm so sorry… forgive me..."_ Draco whispered, and Hermione vibrated in terror as dread built at what could be worse than anything she had already seen.

The memories became clearer around her, and Draco paced into a different sitting room within his manor, his father leading him and his mother trailing. Her eyes fell upon her younger self, Ron, and a boiled man who resembled Harry captive in the arms of madmen.

She looked dirty. As though she hadn't eaten in months. She could see the bones of her cheeks protruding, the skin looking sunken and gray, covered head to toe in dirt. Her hair was matted, littered with knots and leaves. But she wasn't crying. She had a hatred on her face that rang straight to her core.

Tears sank down the real Hermione's face as Bellatrix instructed Draco to identify the three prisoners. To be _sure_ that it was Potter before she called the Dark Lord. She watched the younger she hold a firm gaze, a wholly resolute look on her face, pure hatred in her eyes, as the younger Draco leaned into her face.

"I can't be sure…" he whispered.

Bellatrix roared then, snapping her wand at the man behind her younger self asking of the sword he held. When he refused to say where he had gotten it, she froze him and instructed a ratty-looking man to put Harry and Ron in a cellar.

Bellatrix snatched her younger body by the hair and dragged her across the floor then, a wicked sneer on her face. It was clear she was too weak to resist, but that didn't stop her from trying. From flailing her body and screaming.

Draco and Narcissa observed from the side of the room, fear etched in every fiber of their bodies. He flinched forward somewhat, but his mother put a hand on his shoulder, pulling him backward with a pained shake of her head. They were both crying, and Hermione had a sinking feeling in her gut.

"Where did you get this?" Bellatrix shouted as she pulled Hermione by the hair. She was holding an embellished sword dazzled with red gems, waving it dangerously close to her neck. Hermione gasped somewhat as it appeared to slice the skin of her face when Bellatrix swung it around.

"We found it," her younger self cried loudly as the deranged witch threw her to the ground.

"Liar!" Bellatrix spat. " _Crucio_!"

Hermione felt her heart stop as her younger self stiffened and then screamed out in pain, her body writhing on the floor as it convulsed. She cried out over and over, pleading for the woman to stop. Begging for her death as the mad witch hit her repeatedly with the curse.

She felt just as paralyzed as her younger form. Hermione wanted to stop watching, but she couldn't look away. The demented woman climbed atop her body then, and she could see her mouth moving but couldn't hear her words. Bellatrix lifted, pulling out the silver knife she had deformed Draco with and grinned wickedly. She looked murderous as she dropped to Hermione's younger self's left arm.

When her own screams filled the room once more, she sobbed. The memory was too far away, and she couldn't see the wounds, but she watched as blood pooled beneath her. She writhed and screamed while the woman broke her, pausing only to torture her further with her wand.

By the time Bellatrix sloped off her supine form, she was motionless. Her sobs no longer reverberated through the room. Her cries of pain were silent as her body seemed to twitch with residual pain.

Hermione heard a flurry of activity around her then, but she couldn't look away. She couldn't stop the tears from sinking as she watched her younger self fade from consciousness before her eyes.

She sank to her knees, hands out in front of her searching for some sort of support she couldn't find as she wailed, trying to take gasping breaths to appease her lungs. She was panicking, she knew it, but she couldn't soothe herself. Couldn't stop the images from replaying in her cognizance.

She sensed Draco lay a firm hand to her back and wanted to flinch away. He slumped down beside her, whispering apologies and regrets into her ear. She wanted to retch. To pull away and blame him, but she knew she couldn't.

Before she knew it, the memory was shifting once more, and a battle-worn stone replaced the marble underneath her hands. The courtyard around her was littered with rubble as she looked up. Her eyes befell Harry's lifeless body in Hagrid's arms, and the pit of despair grew more rooted in her gut.

Voldemort began to cackle then. Fear, rage, and loathing ran up her vertebrae at the sound of his madness.

"Now is your time to join us! Or die." He spoke, but Hermione barely heard him over the ringing in her ears, from the fear and sadness she felt watching on. He paused for a moment and surveyed the courtyard, and when no one moved, he sneered.

"Draco," Lucius addressed, pointing for him to join the Death Eaters.

Draco stood rooted to the spot, tears in his eyes, and fear written on his face. She heard the real him take a deep, sobering breath next to her.

"Draco… come." His mother held out her hand, and her face pleaded with him to make the _right_ choice. _Their choice._

Draco winced in fear as he took a hesitant step forward. She could see it on his face that he didn't want to move. He didn't want to walk across the courtyard to his parents. Still, he clearly knew better than to deny the red-eyed monstrosity.

As he took another step down, he eased by her younger self and the two locked eyes. She watched herself shake her head as they both cried. He paused only a moment to meet her sights before closing his eyes and walking, alone, to his lord.

Neville hobbled forward then, and she gasped. "No… Neville…"

But he didn't move all the way. He had a defiant look in his eye as he started to speak. The speech was impassioned. He said even though Harry had died, the fight would go on. What happened next happened so swiftly, she barely registered the movements.

Neville roared, "Harry's heart did beat for us! For all of us! It's not over!" And she saw him pull a shining silver sword from a fabric that he was holding. The same sword that had just pierced her flesh and caused her torment.

A fraction of a second later, Harry's prone body rolled from Hagrid's arms, fully alive and alert. Hermione heard herself gasp as tears streamed down her face both in present and memory.

"Draco, no!" Narcissa cried as he sprang into action, sprinting directly past Voldemort and casting a wand to Harry. The latter caught it skillfully and fired a spell at the snake at Voldemort's feet, which rebounded as Death Eaters blinked away. Draco kept running, and the memory moved with him into the Great Hall, where she saw the crowd had gathered again.

Spells flew left and right, and she couldn't discern what was happening. Draco slammed a black hooded figure into the wall, scooping his wand and turning to fire spells at other cloaked characters. Left and right, they dropped as Draco gave some swift kicks as he passed them.

Then, she saw herself as Draco downed another Death Eater, fighting the deranged woman who had tortured her. She, Ginny, and Luna looked tired, sluggish as they all simultaneously tried to best the psychotic witch. A flash of green flew from the mad witch's wand, aimed directly for Ginny, and Hermione gasped.

Draco's wand soared forward, knocking Ginny over with force as the green light missed her by mere centimeters. He had saved Ginny's life. 

" _Not my daughter, you bitch!"_ The Weasley matriarch bellowed as she pushed her way through the crowd and made short work of her target with quick wand movements. Hermione watched as the woman who had destroyed her seemed to freeze, her skin suck in against her bones, and shatter as if she were glass.

Hermione felt relief wash over her, and she watched the pieces of the madwoman fall to the ground.

A loud blast frightened her, and all eyes turned toward the Great Hall doors, which Voldemort had just blown open.

"It's over, Tom!" Harry roared as he trailed Voldemort through them, casting spell after spell. Voldemort looked slow. As if he had no fight left in him.

As their wands connected, blue light versus green, Voldemort groaned out in pain. His skin was growing paler by the minute. Harry's spell grew denser and nearer, slowly but surely snuffing out the light from Voldemort's wand. In a bright flash, the madman's wand flew from his hand into Harry's waiting one.

Hermione looked back at Voldemort to watch him almost literally vanish into thin air. The life seemed to leave his eyes as his skin began to peel, flake off, and fall to the ground in a pile.

The Great Hall was deathly silent for a few long seconds before people broke out into cheers, rushing Harry in congratulations. Her younger self and Ron pushed through the crowd, hand in hand, and embraced Harry, crying as the memory slowly faded away.

A bang of a gavel frightened her as she found herself in a large chamber again, filled with wizards and witches. It held a single chair in the middle where her younger self sat.

The Malfoy family sat on the stadium seating behind her. Draco and his mother on one side and his father on the other. Their hands were bound, and a slew of wizards had their wands raised to them.

"The court recognizes Ms. Hermione Jean Granger, Order of Merlin, First Class. Ms. Granger, you are here to speak on behalf of…" Kingsley Shaklebolt paused as he checked his files, and Hermione's breath caught slightly. "On behalf of one Draco Lucius Malfoy and one Narcissa Black Malfoy. Is this true?"

"Yes, Minister," she nodded resolutely.

"Proceed," he motioned with his hand, giving her the floor.

"Members of the Wizengamont, as you've heard from Mr. Harry Potter's testimony earlier today, both Draco and Narcissa Malfoy were crucial in the defeat of Tom Riddle. I am here to second his statement. If not for them, we would not have survived the war. I would be dead."

"Please, elaborate Ms. Granger," the wizard said.

'Of course. Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, and I were captured by snatchers and taken to Malfoy Manor on Easter of this year. When we arrived, Draco was called into the room to identify us. And he did not. He told Bellatrix Lestrange he couldn't be sure who we were. He saved our lives that day."

"Draco also risked his life on multiple instances at the battle of Hogwarts. The most crucial being the moment he tossed Harry Potter the wand he inevitably defeated Voldemort with."

She looked over her shoulder then, to Draco, with a sad smile. She felt the real Draco move closer to her and flinched a bit. He had been so quiet for the past recollections that she had almost forgotten he was there.

"I would like to submit into evidence memories of my fifth year at Hogwarts. It will support my claim that Draco was not truly prejudiced. He and I had a… a romantic relationship that year."

Nearly every member of the court gasped at that, other than herself, Draco and his mother. Lucius' face was contorted in such rage that she could feel it prickle her skin. Murmurs broke out as wizards and witches leaned in and whispered loudly.

"Order!" Kingsley shouted as he banged the gavel against its wooden base once more, the crowd falling hushed slowly.

"Accepted. Is that all?" Kingsley questioned.

"And Mrs. Malfoy lied to Voldemort himself about Harry's death, allowing him to walk away from the Forbidden Forest alive. Without her lie, without her will to protect her son, we wouldn't be sitting here having this conversation."

"Is it true that they watched and did nothing while Bellatrix Lestrange tortured you?" A ranking member asked, and both younger Draco and the real one at her side flinched with grimaces on their faces.

"Yes, but I have no doubt if they had tried to stop her that she would have killed either of them in cold blood."

"Very well, anything else, Ms. Granger?"

"It is my belief that Draco and Narcissa were victims of circumstance, as I was. Had they not been under the influence of Lucius Malfoy, and had Voldemort not lived in their home, I solemnly believe their actions would have been vastly different. I do not believe they are bad people. Merely good people forced to do bad things to save their own lives. That is all."

The memory shifted, and she was no longer in the room. Kingsley banged the gavel again, and the room grew quiet.

"The members of the Wizengamot have come to a decision. In the case of Lucius Abraxas Malfoy, we find him guilty of all charges. He will be stripped of his wand and will serve the rest of his life in Azkaban prison."

She saw the younger Draco sag in what she assumed was a relief. Sadness coiled in her at the thought of a son being so disenfranchised from his own father. That he would be comforted in the knowledge of his father spending his remaining days in a cell.

"In the cases of Draco Lucius Malfoy and Narcissa Black Malfoy, this court finds both parties not guilty. Each acted under coercion to save their own lives and unwillingly participated in Death Eater activities. The court fines each party 50,000 galleons and recommends 1-year probation. If this probation is violated, they will suffer a 10-year stint in Azkaban prison. Adjourned."

A bang of the gavel rang out as she felt pulled sharply from memory.

\- - - - - -

The moment her back hit the worn couch, she wailed noisily. Draco pulled her into his chest, and she felt his tears mix with hers. She tried to shove him away, half-heartedly, but he held her tighter as her bewailings deepened. He whispered apologies into her ear as he stroked her hair, her back. She cried loudly for a long time, clutching his shirt for some sort of stability.

Some while later, she drew back, unwrapping herself from his arms. She tried to take calming breaths as she stared down at her left arm. Slowly lifting her sleeve, she remarked the flush, unblemished skin that had been there all along.

"There's nothing…" she spoke softly through her tears.

Draco withdrew his wand and hesitantly aimed it at her arm. She flinched, pulling it away, and he frowned.

"Just..." he murmured as he took hold of her wrist, pulling it into his lap. He ran his wand slowly across her forearm, and she felt it sting with magic. Slowly a puffy, red wound deforming her arm emerged, and she couldn't breathe.

_Mudblood_

She felt bile rise in her throat. She had wished no scar had meant what Draco had revealed to her was a hoax. That it was all some elaborate ploy against her. Tears sprang from her eyes anew as she looked down over the slur staining her skin.

"I… I have to go," she whispered through her sobs, her voice cracking after every word.

She stood and made for the main sitting room floo then on shaky steps. Her mind was racing but blank all at once as she approached the flames, picked up a handful of floo powder, and paused. Where could she go? She didn't want to see Harry, she didn't want to stay here, and she didn't want to be alone.

Throwing the soot into the flames, they roared to life in a flash of green as she spoke "Parkinson's Residence" and twirled away, landing in a dimly lit room.

"Hermione," Pansy declared as Hermione collapsed into a heap on her sitting room floor, bawling from terror, hysteria, and sorrow.

Hermione felt Pansy lift her and place her down on the couch, pulling her in closer. Hermione cried unending sobs into her shoulder as Pansy shushed her, running a hand down her hair to calm her.


	14. The Next Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My trigger warnings from the previous chapters still stand: severe depression, self harm, alluded attempted suicide, torture, death, therapy, utter plain sadness, fighting / battles
> 
> I hope this does not deter you from reading the rest of this story, which is 100% a HEA.
> 
> As always, I do not own Harry Potter in any way, and I am not making any money from this story.

Hermione woke the next day, her eyes pained. Judging by the bright light streaming through the sheer curtains on her borrowed windows, it was well into the day. While she knew she had slept, her body still felt utterly spent. Her brain was a wasteland, and her gut an ocean of emotions. 

She laid awake in the unfamiliar room for a few moments, merely staring at the ceiling until memories of the night prior crashed over her. 

Of seeing herself tortured. 

Of Dumbledore's murder. 

Of Harry's lifeless body.

Of the countless dead eyes.

Of Draco being abused, neglected, and exploited.

Tears slipped from her raw eyes anew then. Drowning out the silence with her muffled sobs. No matter how hard she tried, her mind wouldn't relent. It refused to stop the onslaught of images that blazed behind her eyes. 

She didn't move until well after the sun descended, lying virtually motionless in the foreign bed. Blackness enveloped the outside, and her room fell into darkness before she decided she had overstayed her welcome in Pansy's home.

It took her long moments before she sat, her body feeling lifeless as she stood. Her appearance in the vanity did not shock her. Half her hair was wild, the other half stuck to her face from being cried on against a pillow. Her eyes were rimmed black, and the whites about her irises were as puffy as the red scars that defaced her.

Hermione let out a long sigh, and tears dripped from her eyes faster. They still hadn't stopped, and she knew they wouldn't. Swallowing thickly, she began a languid trek down the set of embellished stairs. When her feet connected with the marble of the foyer, she overheard the floo rumble to life. 

"Draco," Pansy shrieked somewhat startled, and Hermione's heart plummeted into her stomach. "You can't be here." 

"Why not?" Draco sought. He sounded drained, no life in his voice as he sighed deeply. Hermione shifted to stand next to the entryway then, hidden but in earshot.

"Hermione is upstairs."

"She's here?" Hermione thought she caught an inflection in his tone then. That he was glad to be under the same roof again. 

"Yes. And it's probably not good for you to see her." 

"Does… does she hate me?" 

"Do you blame her?" Pansy searched. "I wouldn't blame her at all for hating us. She needs time. She just watched every awful moment in her life last night, one after the other... A lot of which we were responsible for." 

"I want to tell her I'm sorry."

"Later. She cried until 4 a.m. before falling asleep. I doubt she's even awake. She seemed so exhausted." 

"Yeah…"

"Hi…" Hermione whispered as she shuffled into the sitting room, trying not to sound meek. Both inhabitants turned to her, shock on their faces. 

"Hermione, hi," Pansy said as she stood from the sofa on which she and Draco sat. "How are you?" 

"I… don't know." 

"I'll go," Draco said as he rose, starting a swift step toward the fireplace. Sheer grief over his features.

"No, please…" Hermione started, her voice rising a bit. "Don't leave." 

Draco's face registered a bit of shock as he froze in his tracks, turning to meet her gaze. His brows were knit, and he nodded his head somewhat quickly.

"Pansy… may I speak with Draco?"

"Sure…" Pansy breathed. "I'll head upstairs…" 

"Thank you, Pansy… for last night," Hermione muttered as Pansy passed, laying a soft hand on her shoulder. "And I don't hate you…" she whispered, loud enough only the two could detect. 

Pansy's eyes held unshed tears as she inhaled deeply. "I set the floo so you can come and go as you please," she said softly, nodding as she left Hermione alone with Draco. 

"Hi…" he said noiselessly. He looked as though he felt she may run should he move a muscle. Disappear never to be seen again.

"Hi…" Hermione echoed as she shuffled deeper into the room, falling into the couch. 

Draco heeded her lead gradually, perching somewhat stiffly on the opposite end of the sofa. Both sat in quietness for a moment, neither genuinely knowing what to say to the other. Their eyes not meeting. The only noise about them their breaths.

"Granger… I… I'm sorry. I'm sorry for everything," Draco whispered.

"I don't blame you," she said resolutely. 

"What?" he gasped, confusion growing on his face. "How can you not?"

"It wasn't your fault. None of that was your fault." 

"It was _all_ my fault, Granger. _All_ of it." 

"You were a child… we were children." 

"But…" he started, and Hermione held up a hand to silence him. 

"Just as you told me not to atone for your father's indiscretions, you do not apologize for what that monster _made_ you do to stay alive…"

"I nearly _killed_ three people…"

"You did what you had to. I feel like I know myself well enough to know that if I didn't believe the words I spoke at your trial, I wouldn't have spoken them," Hermione offered. She saw Draco's face fall in disbelief at her utterance. 

"I just stood there… I didn't stop her…"

"And you didn't tell her it was me. That it was us. You must have known. How could you not?" 

They were silent for a long while before Hermione breathed, "I don't think I hate you, Draco…" 

His eyes met hers with determination, his brows knit close together. He opened his mouth once, twice, and then a third time but said nothing before he gradually closed it. His head was swaying somewhat, and he was inhaling rather profoundly. Hermione thought she could see a sheen over his pupils of hidden tears.

"I just… I need some time to process all of this." 

"I'm sorry, Granger…" 

"I know you are." 

They sat in silence for a while, both of their breathing evening and their bodies relaxing somewhat. Draco's fingers were fidgeting with his sleeve, and curiosity and resentment prickled at her skin.

"Can I see it?" 

"I don't know if that's…"

"Please." 

He sighed deeply, his face contorted with anxiety as his shoulders sagged. 

When he pushed up his sleeve, she wanted to retch anew. Emblazoned into his forearm was a black, putrid skull with a snake slithering from its mouth. It seemed irritated and quite red, just like the scar that marred both her arm and her face.

She couldn't look at it for long. Anger and sadness surged within her again, tears tumbling from her eyes as she closed them, turning her head away. She stood swiftly, her head swimming with lightness as she did. 

"I… I need to go."

"Sure…" Draco uttered as he slowly stood. 

She couldn't move briskly enough to the hearth. To escape behind sparks of green. To spin away into a world that felt more genuine.

"Thank you for showing me," she said quietly, clutching a handful of floo powder before halting. 

"Sure, Granger. I'm… I'm here if you need me." 

Hermione nodded, back still facing him as she cast the floo powder into the flames. 

She couldn't feel her body after invading her parents' dwelling. A mixture of nausea and light-headedness washed over her, and she slumped to her knees. 

She felt ill. As though every fiber of her being was a lie and she simply had to live it. Accept who she was now, a shell of whoever or whatever she could have been. 

Trudging up the stairs felt dreadful. As though each step brought with it another reminiscence of loathing. 

Her door was ajar when she reached the summit, but she couldn't go in. It felt unsuitable. Like nothing about herself was real, and her room only a fabrication. 

Hermione shuffled down the hallway, dragging her hand along the wall for support. Opening her parents' bedroom door, their scent that knocked her felt familiar. It seemed as though it was inviting her into a world that had been all her own. Where she knew she was protected. Where she knew exactly who she was.

She crept into her parents' bed, slipping under the coverlet. Tears welled and emptied from her eyes as she grasped one of their pillows tightly. Their calming scent was everywhere, and she just wished desperately to hear their voices. To listen to her mother calling up that dinner was ready. To overhear her father screaming at a rugby match. 

To wake up from this awful nightmare to their beaming facing and a sterile hospital.

She didn't budge from her parents' bed, for how long she didn't know. Time seemed to flow by slowly as the room faded from pitch black to light over and over. She hardly moved for the bathroom, never once eating. She tried to sleep, but the images playing behind her eyes assailed her psyche. 

"Hermione?" she heard faintly as if someone was calling for her in a dream.

"Oh, 'Mione…" she heard faintly moments later, the voice louder but still somehow infinitely distant.

Cold caressed her skin as the coverlet was pulled down. By whom she couldn't discern. She felt her body lifted and could see a form holding her, but she didn't know who it was. It was a man, she knew that much, but who she had no idea. The figure seemed familiar, so warm as he relocated her. 

Brightness filled her vision, but it only seemed to make everything hazier. Her eyes were somewhat vacant, void of authentic crispness. She could see the objects around her, but her mind was unable to process them.

She felt her clothes lifted from her body then, a tangled mess of sweat and wetness sliding off her form. 

When she was elevated again, a warmth enveloped her as her body sank into a seated position. She could smell lavender, a hint of vanilla lingering behind it, as her body seemed to relax. Warmness washed down her back as heat trickled over her hair, the curls flattening against her face. 

The further her body sank into the warmth, the more her vision seemed to clear. She saw her nose come into view first, then the whites of the tile around her. When she glanced sideways, a known face came somewhat into clarity.

"...Harry?"

"Hey, 'Mione…" 

"Harry…" and she sobbed anew. 

"Shh… shh 'Mione, I'm here," he whispered as his hand settled on her face. "Can you finish?" 

Hermione nodded slightly as the bathroom came wholly into her picture. She was sitting in the bathtub, in her bra and knickers, the water warm and clouded with bubbles. 

"When was the last time you ate?" Harry questioned somewhat softly, and she simply shrugged. "I'll be in the kitchen when you're done, then." And Hermione nodded again when he stood, shutting the bathroom door behind him on exit. 

Hermione sank into the water up to her lips suddenly, debating the last few centimeters. Of letting her nose fall under and the breath to leave her lungs. But she knew she couldn't do it. She lingered there for quite some time, her body starting to shiver as the warmth trickled away. 

A knock on the door startled her, and she sat up somewhat. 

"Hermione, are you okay?" Harry queried, muffled by the wood of the door.

"Yes." 

"Alright… lunch is ready when you are."

"Okay."

She sighed, lingering only a moment longer to rinse herself clean of bubbles and stepped out of the tub. She ignored the mirror calling her name. Telling her to look at the disgust that she was as she passed it.

She dressed slowly in a pair of her mother's joggers and an oversized t-shirt of her father's that engulfed her form. When she made to move downstairs, her feet wouldn't take the first step. She stood at the precipice, looking at the carpet below until Harry's face invaded her sightline.

He had a worried expression on his features as he helped her down the stairs, sitting her at the kitchen table in front of a plate packed with food. Food she didn't desire.

They sat in silence then, Harry urging her every now and then to eat while he consumed his own meal. And the irritation that filled her upset her somewhat.

"Harry, why are you here?" she snapped.

"Healer Smith floo'd and said you missed another appointment. And after Malfoy's owl…" 

"Draco?" she asked, somewhat surprised.

"Yeah, he owled me on Monday and told me he showed you his memories… That you had left pretty upset." 

"Monday?"

"Yeah. So when Smith called saying you didn't go 'round yesterday, I came to check on you." 

So it was Friday… and Draco had owled Harry on Monday. And she had been lying in a suspended state of haze for five days before Harry finally waltzed through her floo.

"We need to go to St. Mungos today, Hermione. Healer Smith said he could work you in."

"Okay." 

They sat silently for some time while Hermione picked over her food. She couldn't bring herself to eat anything, her appetite non-existent. 

"Hermione I…" Harry started, but Hermione cut him off. 

"I'm ready to go to the Healer," she said, somewhat harshly. 

"Oh… okay. Yeah, of course." Harry fumbled somewhat with their plates as he cleared them. 

Hermione stood and stomped toward the floo, throwing down powder and swirling away before Harry met her. When his face emerged on the other side, it was jumbled with confusion.

They sat silently in the waiting room for what felt like hours before Healer Smith turned the corner. His general cheery disposition was absent as he approached them.

"Ms. Granger. Mr. Potter," the Healer nodded. "If you'd follow me, please." 

When the trio paced into Healer Smith's office, Hermione could recognize an annoyed gaze on the medi-wizard's face. He sat, and Hermione couldn't look him in the eye, a feeling of guilt washing over her. For why she didn't know this time.

"Ms. Granger, I will first start by asking how you are."

"...Fine…" 

"While I know that is a lie, I will forgive it. Have any memories come back?" 

"...at least one."

She noticed Harry perk up at that, his face going somewhat startled and then smiling. And it made Hermione slightly more perturbed.

"Well, that is excellent news. Now, can either of you explain why you have missed your last two appointments?" 

Hermione simply sat, staring at the floor. And Harry said nothing.

"Alright, then I will run your scans."

Hermione felt the Healer's magic flutter across her skin as he flicked his wand. It seemed to caress her, call to her as if it was trying to eat away at her sadness. But before it could win, coldness enveloped her body as Healer Smith lowered his hand.

"Well, some additional good news. Your core readings are stronger than your last visit. What have you been doing differently?"

"Magic…"

"Pardon?"

"Magic…" Hermione echoed.

"Well, I should hope you've been doing that the entire time."

"I haven't." 

"And why not?"

"That was my fault, Healer Smith," Harry chimed in for the first time.

"Your fault?" 

"I… I kept Hermione's wand from her," Harry uttered, and Hermione felt a new wave of anger fall over her at the blatant admission. That he _had_ been holding her wand out of her grasp, on purpose, as she had feared.

"Mr. Potter, I shouldn't have to tell you how disgraceful that is," Healer Smith scolded. He sounded as livid as Hermione had been, asking after her wand again and again. "I also should not have had to tell you that Ms. Granger needed to be using magic. I thought that was a given." 

"I… yes, Healer Smith. I have no excuse…"

"And you shouldn't. You've stunted her recovery greatly," Healer Smith spoke, a much sterner tone than he generally held gracing his words. Hermione felt a fascinating sort of vindication as Harry was criticized for his actions.

"Ms. Granger, have you begun Mind Healer treatments?" 

Hermione simply swung her head, no. 

"Then, I will take the liberty to schedule your appointments for you. And I will find someone who will come to _you_ , as you seem to neglect keeping appointments." 

"Okay…" 

"I will also be prescribing you calming draught and dreamless sleep." 

He enunciated much calmer now, and Hermione ventured a glance at him. His face held immense concern as he eyed her.

"I have seen that look on your face before, Ms. Granger. I can see you are having a difficult time. And I wish I could do more for you."

"Thank you…"

"Are you still living alone?" Healer Smith questioned.

Hermione nodded, and her face scrunched slightly.

"It may be good for you to have a companion in your home."

"I've… got no one," Hermione whispered, and she noticed Harry flinch from the corner of her eye.

"Mr. Potter, can Ms. Granger return to your home for the time being?" 

"Of course she can," Harry agreed. 

"I don't want to intrude…"

"Hermione, you will never be an intrusion in my life."

Hermione started to cry then, and Healer Smith summoned a handkerchief. But she wasn't crying out of joy. She was shedding more tears of anguish. Harry had yet to sincerely apologize for his actions, and now her Healer wanted them to live together once more. 

When Healer Smith dismissed them with a sad smile, Harry walked Hermione through the ward with a hand on her back. Half of her felt comforted, but half still felt resentment. When they landed within her parents' hearth, she sighed, trying to soothe away her tension.

"I can help you get some things," Harry offered quietly.

"Harry… may I have one more night here?"

"I… I guess. But I'm staying with you." 

"Okay…"

"Let me run and tell Gin, and grab a few things and I'll be right back…"

He paced to the fireplace then and halted for a moment as he grabbed floo powder. "I will be _right_ back," he uttered again, throwing the powder in and swirling away. 

It took Hermione only a fraction of a second before she traversed the room and cast powder into the hearth, climbing in and swirling away.

"Hermione, hi!" Pansy squawked, clearly caught off guard as someone stumbled through her floo.

"Hi, Pansy. I'm sorry… I didn't mean to impose…"

"Do not apologize. You're welcome here whenever… Come," Pansy stated, patting the cushion on the couch next to herself. 

Hermione shuffled over leisurely, slumping ungracefully onto the sofa. She could feel the tears in her eyes and attempted to command them away. To stop herself from crying more tears when she felt confident that she should have wept them all already.

"Is everything alright, Hermione?" Pansy inquired in a melodious tune, her brow littered with concern.

And Hermione broke down, loud sobs falling from her lips almost instantly as her eyes leaked tears. Pansy shifted quickly and pulled her into her shoulder, stroking her hair. 

"I can't move back in with him," Hermione wept.

"Who?" 

"Harry..."

"Of course not! He's a liar!" Pansy sounded utterly irate as she clutched Hermione closer.

"My Healer…" Hermione choked out. "Said I can't be alone…" 

"Then you'll move in here," Pansy said resolutely, pushing Hermione back somewhat to stare deep into her eyes. "You can move in here." 

"He's… he's at my house," Hermione sobbed.

"Well, I'll just have to tell him to bugger off," Pansy said obstinately. "Come on," she uttered, her voice falling quieter, a softness befalling her features. "Let's get you upstairs…" 

Pansy practically carried Hermione up the stairs and back into the room she had occupied days prior. The wonderful witch assisted her into the large bed at the center of the far wall and tucked her in. No sooner had her head hit the pillow, than her eyes started to flutter closed, pure exhaustion settling in. 

The last thing she saw was Pansy's concerned gaze as her eyes fell shut.


	15. A Mind Healer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: Suicidal Thoughts, Implied/Referenced attempted Suicide
> 
> My trigger warnings from the previous chapter still stand: Severe depression, self harm, alluded attempted suicide, torture, death, therapy, utter plain sadness, fighting / battles
> 
> I hope this does not deter you from reading the rest of this story, which is 100% eventual HEA.
> 
> As always, I do not own anything related to Harry Potter and am not making any money from this story.

Hermione slept late the next morning, only roused by a knock on her bedroom door. When her eyes trembled open, it took a moment to gather her surroundings. To remember she laid in a spare room of Pansy's home once again. 

Another knock, and this time Pansy's head appeared behind it. 

"Hey, Hermione," she spoke with what seemed like a relief. 

"Hi, Pansy." 

"Your Mind Healer is here. I let St. Mungos know you were staying here. Would you like me to have her wait while you freshen up?"

"You can send her in…" 

"Okay, she's here with me," Pansy murmured as the door pushed open further. 

A portly woman walked in then, all glasses and lime green. Why they had such an ungodly color of robes, Hermione still didn't know, but she shut her eyes at the sight.

"Thank you, Ms. Parkinson." 

"Of course, ma'am. Hermione, I am going to get some of your things for your house. I will be downstairs after should you need me." 

"Thank you, Pansy," Hermione started, and she could feel the tears in the corners of her eyes afresh. 

The stout woman flicked her wand, and a chair shifted to the side of Hermione's bed. When the woman hunkered down, she wanted to sink further into her pillows. To bury herself away. 

"Ms. Granger, I am Healer Shelley. Do you know why I am here?" 

Hermione nodded her head somewhat but didn't meet the woman's gaze.

"Excellent. Can you start by telling me your full name?" 

"Hermione Jean Granger."

"And your birth date?"

"19 September 1979." 

"And how are you feeling?" 

But Hermione didn't answer then. She couldn't. There was no fathomable way could she articulate the way she felt.

"Ms. Granger?"

When Hermione began to cry quietly, the portly woman swished her wand again. A heaviness fell over Hermione, reconciling her some. When her face fell with a hint of confusion, her eyes shifting to seek answers, the Healer spoke.

"It is a weight charm. Studies show the pressure relieves stresses and anxieties." 

Hermione nodded somewhat, and she had to admit, the pressure was relieving. Why she didn't know. But the weight on her chest seemed to pull outward, grounding her a touch.

"Can you tell me how you've been feeling now?"

But Hermione still didn't react.

"I understand this is hard for you." 

She couldn't possibly comprehend. 

They sat silent for several long minutes, the Healer urging every now and then how Hermione felt. To no acknowledgment. 

"You will need to speak with me, Ms. Granger, but I will excuse your silence today. Can you nod if you can hear me?" 

Hermione gave one single nod of indication. 

"Why don't we try something else? Have you your wand?"

Hermione glanced at the table by her bedside then and found the vine wrapped chestnut wood waiting. 

"Excellent," Healer Shelley spoke as she stood, scooping Hermione's wand and placing it within her hand. 

"Healer Smith believes strengthening your core is returning your memories. And the more you can remember, the quicker I believe your subconscious will heal. Do you know any spells, Ms. Granger?" 

"Aguamenti. Incendio…" 

"Well, we certainly don't want to catch the bed on fire," the Healer laughed somewhat, a small smile on her face. "Let's try Wingardium Leviosa, shall we?" 

The Healer sat a book on Hermione's legs then, and with a swish and flick of her wand, the book was levitating. And Hermione felt a pang of melancholy that she couldn't see the beauty of it. When the book settled itself back on her shins, Healer Shelley spoke. 

"Give it a go," she smiled happily.

"Wingardium Leviosa," Hermione whispered. The book jiggled somewhat on her legs, and the Healer clapped. 

"Excellent work! Try again, please." 

Doing as instructed, Hermione sighed and flicked her wand. When the book levitated centimeters above her legs, she felt a small sense of pride work its way in. One corner of her mouth ticking into a smile. 

"Very nice job, Ms. Granger, truly."

"Thank you…" 

"Let us call it a day. And you can tell me when I come tomorrow if you have had a memory return." 

"Tomorrow?" 

"Yes, dear. Healer Smith has scheduled me to visit every day for the next 21 days." 

"That seems excessive," Hermione disputed. 

"Does it? I have been here for an hour, and you did not speak to me other than your name. And just now to challenge my necessity."

"I… I wasn't…" 

"You were, and it is perfectly natural. Denial is very difficult. Depression is even harder."

Hermione merely nodded. 

"I have given your potions to Ms. Parkinson. She knows when they should be administered." 

"Thank you."

"Would you like some dreamless sleep for a nap?" 

"No…" 

"Then I shall see you tomorrow, Ms. Granger." 

"Okay," Hermione responded with a shake of her head.

She sank into the bed then, her head hitting the soft pillows, as the Healer exited her chamber with a click of the door. Lingering exhaustion seemed to overrun her, and she allowed it, falling into a stiff sleep.

Hermione woke less than 20 minutes later in utter fear. Tears were streaming down her face as she fell from her bed, dragging herself into the attached loo to retch. 

When she had fallen dormant, she had been greeted with her parents smiling faces. Hermione was in the back seat of their car, and they were all singing along loudly to Bohemian Rhapsody. But the happiness didn't last long. 

Moments after she heard her mother scream, her world shook and flipped multiple times. When it settled, she hung limply from her seat belt. Her scratched arms and blood fell loose in front of her. As her sights cleared, lifting somewhat, she saw them. 

The disfigured forms that were her parents. She retched as the dream seemed to start over. It was on the second impact when she had woken.

She knew immediately it was _the_ accident. And she had revived the moments of her parents' death. 

She repeatedly retched as the thought played on repeat in her mind. Why did it have to be this memory? She had over a decade of hidden consciousness, and her mind wished to bring this one forward?

She began to sob as she fell against the wall of the bathroom. 

Her perceptions settled on her marred forearm, and she clawed at it. She couldn't stop herself. It felt like her body was taking over and begging her for pain.

She felt cuts on her skin when she slid into the tiled shower, but everything was in a haze. The water was on, and she didn't remember starting it. She couldn't tell what her hands were doing or what they held.

But the pain that lingered over her felt joyous. She felt as though she was alive, the sear of her skin beating into her brain. Knowing pain meant she was real. 

Minutes later, her head sagged to the side, smacking against the cold tile as her body lay limply on the shower floor. 

And that's how she laid until her body started to feel cold, her vision completely gray.

"Hermione?! Are you in there?" A voice wafted through the door, but Hermione made no attempt to respond.

"Hermione, please open the door," the woman's voice sounded again, and Hermione overheard someone tell her to move.

A flash of bright light rimmed the doorframe then, and the door flung open. But she didn't move. 

"Granger, what the fuck," a booming voice sounded, filled with terror, as a face filled her view. She could hear a woman gasp as her hazy vision settled on a pale, sharp face.

He disappeared then, only to return a moment later, pressing something cooling to her arm. His clothes were getting soaked as he climbed into the shower, attempting to pull her from the slick floor. 

"No…" she protested, her body slumping further against the tiles. He attempted to pull her up, to keep one hand on her forearm, but she wouldn't allow it. 

"No!" She screamed, pulling her arms from his grasp as she thud back to the tiled floor, tears falling unstopped from her eyes. 

"Granger, I've got to heal your arm!" His hands rushed toward her again, and she flailed her arms, her fists smacking him against the jaw, his chest, his arms.

"No! No! _No_!" She screamed, her hands lamely drifting and battling his. Scratching him. Pushing him. 

He sank to his knees then and roughly clutched her wrists, both despondency and passion written on his features. He twisted her arms against her chest and held them there. 

And it was the first sturdy thing she had felt in days. The first stable being that had any impact on her form.

He turned her as she broke into deeper sobs. Lowering fully, he pulled her back into his chest, wrapping his legs around her like a cage. His arms encircled her then, pushing hers against her chest, still firmly held in an x. 

She felt caged and yet somehow more checked than she had in days. In weeks. As her tears rang out louder around them, water beating against her head, she shook. Her sobs forced out as her body flinched with each gasp.

He was trying to hush her. To assure her, it was going to be alright. His husky voice reverberated around her, through her, and she felt it trying to wick away her anguish. The sheer sorrow that permeated all her essence. 

"Shh… Please, Hermione."

But she couldn't stop. Her sobs kept coming. He pulled one hand up and ran it around her face, pulling her sopping hair to one side.

"I'm here. It's okay."

And she sobbed still as he set his chin on her shoulder, his other arm coming back to crush hers into her chest.

"I need you to live."

Her shaking began to lessen, an odd sort of calmness invading her as his pleading filled her ears. She felt light, but her breathing was somewhat challenging. The cloudiness of her head seeming to float over her.

"I love you. We love you."

She felt her head fall back into his shoulder, her body relaxing its utter stiffness away. Complete contentment falling over her as a coldness worked its way up her shins.

"I need to heal your arm," the voice spoke firmly, releasing one of his arms. 

She felt her left arm fall exposed, the water from the shower stinging it as the droplets fell. He ran something along her forearm as he murmured next to her ear. She couldn't hear his words anymore, drowned out by the ringing in her ears, but she could feel a mellowness as it wrapped her arm. The pain that had been lingering started to fade, and the tingle went with it. 

"Pansy, blood replenishing potion. _Now_."

"I… I don't have any." 

"My house. Potions room, third shelf. Go!" He barked, and she heard a sniffle as someone scurried away. 

Hermione sensed her head lull to the side and settle against his jaw. He tightened his hold somewhat and rocked her. 

"I need you to stay awake, Hermione."

"Draco?" Hermione whispered, his voice finally registering as his image became hazy, yet clear.

"Yes, love. It's me…" 

"Draco, I'm tired."

"You can't fall asleep, Granger. Tell me about house elves. No payment needed, right?" She could hear the fear in his tone then. The sheer panic that seemed to fall from his lips.

The water beating over her turned more heated, and she could feel a flutter of tingles wash over her again. 

"They… freedom…" 

"Are you sure?"

"Mmh…"

"Tell me you're sure, Granger."

"Shur…"

Sound invaded the room in a flurry of motion, then. 

"Unstopper it," Draco growled, one of his arms leaving her. "You need to drink this, Hermione." 

But she didn't move.

"Open your mouth," he commanded, and she sought to move her jaw. But her lips wouldn't separate. They refused to budge. 

She felt his other hand clutch her face, and his fingers thrust into her mouth, parting her lips. A moment later, a fowl liquid traveled over her tongue, and she gagged. His hand clamped over her lips, holding them shut. 

"Swallow," he commanded as his hand dragged her chin higher, while the other massaged the liquid down her throat.

She wanted to gag. To scream and push him off, but she could do nothing. Her body was putty in his arms as he held her tightly, his hand never leaving her mouth. 

They stayed like that for a while, his hands clutching her face, massaging her throat, his body shaking somewhat. She heard a woman's sobs as hers stopped entirely.

"Draco…" she whispered from behind his hand as the water shut off. "Draco?" She said a bit louder, and he flinched.

"How do you feel?"

"Tired."

"Are you cold?" 

"...no," she answered and felt him sag in relief, a deep exhale passing over her skin.

His arms tightened on her again, and she could hear the shuddered breaths he was taking. 

"Come on, let's get you dried…" he said, and it sounded as though he was weeping.

"Get her clothes," Draco demanded.

Hermione felt her form lifted then, his arms strong around her as he settled her head against his chest. 

"Draco…"

"I've got you." 

A wave of warmth washed over her, and the heaviness of her wet clothes vanished. A moment later, someone clothed her in softness before her back landed against what felt like a cloud.

His hand slipped to her face, on all angles, as he sighed a shuddered breath. When his warmth left her, she cried. 

"Don't leave… please don't leave me."

She felt the bed depress next to her, and his hand settle on her chest. 

"It's okay, Pansy… she'll be okay." 

She decerned then that the woman sobbing was Pansy. The woman who was allowing her refuge in her home. She could hear Pansy's sobs and felt utter guilt wash over her. Whatever she had done had caused Pansy so much pain. 

"I'm sorry," Hermione choked out as she started to sob again. "I'm sorry."

"Shh, Granger. This isn't your fault," Draco whispered. 

"I'm sorry," she sobbed again. 

"Can you drink this for me?" He asked softly, his hand shifting to support her neck. 

Another thick liquid passed over her tongue, but this one seemed to numb her slightly. 

"Pansy, I'm staying. Go downstairs."

"But…" 

"She'll be okay. I won't let anything happen to her."

"Okay…" Pansy lamented, and Hermione heard her sobs fading and a door click shut.

His hand left her chest then, and the bed rustled somewhat. 

"No!" Hermione cried. 

"I'm not going anywhere, Granger," Draco said as she felt lifted and then shifted back down, her body warm as down enveloped her.

The bed depressed again, and she felt his heated form press against her. The scent of citrus and sandalwood washed over her, and she cried a bit more. 

"Shh…" he murmured near her ear, running a hand down her hair and lightly gripping the side of her neck. "I'm here."

She felt the heaviness of his arm around her a moment later, and the heat lulled her. Tiredness grew over her as her body relaxed, and she slipped into a deep, dreamless sleep.

When Pansy's knock came on her door the next morning, she felt a coldness that hadn't been there last night. When she opened her eyes, she was alone, her arms were sore, but the only thing they held was a disgusting slur. 

_Mudblood_


	16. A Shocking Confrontation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: mentions of attempted suicide
> 
> I'd like to dedicate this chapter to GMGaby. I actually wrote this chapter after your comment on my last posting. I had originally planned to simply skip forward through time after the last chapter, but your comment sparked a few lines of dialog that warped into a full chapter. So thank you for your support! 
> 
> And thank you to everyone else for reading and commenting!
> 
> We're going to be a bit sad for 1 - 2 more chapters, but it will start getting fluffier. 
> 
> This chapter was a quick add, so please forgive (or point out so I can fix) any errors!
> 
> As typical, I do not own anything related to Harry Potter and make no money from this story.

"Hermione?" Pansy whispered as she stuck her head around the solid wooden door.

"Pansy…" Hermione sniffled, her back wholly to the doorframe as her distressed limbs lay limply about her.

"I brought you some breakfast," Pansy spoke softly as she shouldered the door open further, passing through. 

"I'm not hungry…" Hermione muttered into her pillow.

"I know. But you have to eat before your potions." 

Hermione recognized the bed rustle as Pansy settled into a seated position behind her. The gentle tone that her new roommate continued tried to soothe her mind. Still, it sent ripples of sadness throughout her body for unknown reasons.

"Come on," Pansy said softly, tugging her shoulder somewhat. 

Hermione let the momentum drag her body over, falling lamely onto her back. She hadn't expected the feel of her body lifted as her form pushed back into a seated position. She slumped down into a mass of pillows as the cloud of magic about her faded.

When she opened her eyes, Pansy's soft smile greeted her. She held concern in her eyes, rimmed with black and somewhat bloodshot, as she patted Hermione's hand affectionately.

A silver tray floated onto the mattress then, unfolding its legs as it hovered about her thighs. A delicious fragrance of sweetness wafted about her space, and her stomach growled at the scent.

"Seems like you are hungry," Pansy chuckled softly as a tray wrapped her thighs, too.

Hermione couldn't take her eyes off the line of potions circling her plate of yogurt and berries. The sight made her somewhat sick. Wishing she didn't need medicines to survive life. To be an ordinary person. 

"This smells delicious…" Hermione uttered, merely gazing downward at her plate.

"Twink made it." 

"Who's Twink?"

"She's the Parkinson's house-elf." 

"You have an elf? Pansy! That's slavery!" 

"Hey, give me a bit of credit. She's a free elf!" Pansy commanded, popping a strawberry into her mouth with a small smile.

"Truly?" 

"Yes, absolutely," Pansy declared, and Hermione could see the soft smile of fondness on her lips. "She's been sort of a mother to me when I wasn't at Malfoy Manor with Narcissa. My mum died when I was little, you see." 

"I'm sorry, Pansy."

"It's alright. I've had several years to process. When my father died, freeing Twink was one of the first things I did. She cried for days when I made her first dress. Thought I wanted her to leave." 

"That's lovely," Hermione muttered, unshed tears in her eyes as she looked at Pansy with a smidgen more respect.

"It took a month to calm her down. But it was worth it. I suppose something you said at school stuck," Pansy laughed.

They chatted for a while with, Pansy regaling her time with Twink. When the elf had calmed down, somewhat, she and Pansy had decorated a room on the second floor of their estate. Draping a large bed in purples and reds. Pansy frequently fashioned dresses for the elf now, and they were somewhat inseparable.

"Hey, Hermione. I apologize for how I acted in school. I know you may not remember any of it. But… I'm truly sorry," Pansy declared suddenly.

"Draco showed me some of it…"

"There were several times you and I interacted that he didn't see…"

"I forgive you, Pansy. Me staying in your home, in your spare room, shows how much you've grown. I apologize, as well."

"For?" 

"I wasn't innocent myself, I'm sure." 

"You did have a fairly sharp tongue," Pansy laughed. "Though Draco got the brunt of it."

"Was… he here yesterday?" Hermione inquired, somewhat hesitantly.

Pansy's eyes snapped to her with shock written on her face, and Hermione thought her hazy visions of her day prior might be real. Not figments of her consciousness as she slept.

"You don't remember?" 

"Not really… did something happen? My arms ached, but they seem fine…"

"I… I think I should wait until your Healer gets here to tell you, Hermione. I'm sorry," Pansy said quietly, a sadness finally falling onto her features for the first time that morning.

They sat silently as they ate their meals then, Pansy's eyes showing a bit of a sheen. Hermione tried to recollect her time yesterday, but everything was blurry. Unclear. She could remember meeting Healer Shelley and taking a nap. But everything after was fairly murky.

"Ah. Your Healer is here early," Pansy blurted a bit abruptly.

"How do you know?" 

"The wards. Little tingle in the wrist when someone enters the grounds," Pansy smiled, lifting her right wrist, which contained three small black dots. "I'll go greet her at the door." 

"I'd like to come if that's alright."

"Of course," Pansy smiled, flicking her wand, causing the platters to levitate themselves from the bedroom.

Hermione's new roommate helped her from the bed then, even though she felt as if she could stand on her own. They strolled through the house, Pansy's arm around her waist, holding her tightly. While she thought it may not have been necessary, the affection Pansy radiated as she held her was palpable.

When they stepped off the stairs into the foyer, Hermione's eyes landed on Harry before he snapped his to her. Pansy's hand tightened further on her waist as she huffed audibly. 

"Wait here," Pansy demanded, relinquishing her hold and stalking toward the door."

Harry looked exhausted. Utterly drained. Sleep pervaded his pores as he stood at the doorway, one hand on the doorframe as if he needed the support. He looked shaggy, his hair wild and his glasses askew. He appeared to sway a bit as a small creature with bat-like ears and a wholly frilly dress stood in his way.

"Ah! My lovely lady, Mr. Harry Potter, to be seeing your guest!" Twink, she assumed, sang as her ears fluttered with a happy smile.

Harry's gaze finally locked to hers. He looked worried, fearful. And when his sights fell to Pansy as she hunted toward the door, his face crumpled with a nasty sneer.

"Twink, will you excuse us," Pansy growled.

"Did Twink be doing something wrong, miss?" the elf deflated.

"No, Twink. You did nothing wrong. I simply need to speak to _Mr. Potter_ ," Pansy spat as the elf nodded and popped away from sight.

"What are you doing here, Potter?" Pansy threatened.

"I need to speak to Hermione. If you'll excuse us." 

"You don't get to make demands in _my_ home. A home in which you are currently _unwelcome_."

"Hermione, please," Harry said around Pansy, his voice pleading. 

She felt conflicted. The imploring sound of her alleged best mate's voice seemed to course through Hermione, ringing in her ears as sadness invaded her. But the lingering hint of bitterness she could feel tried to battle the way through.

"Leave, Potter," Pansy snapped.

"I just need to see her," Harry begged, with a slur in his words.

"You most assuredly do not need to see her."

"What are you even doing, Parkinson! You hate her!" Harry yelled suddenly.

Pansy stiffened her back, her arms vibrating visibly as she clenched her fists.

"I do not! Hermione is a lovely person!"

"She isn't herself! If she were, she wouldn't be with _you_!"

"And who's fault is that?" Pansy roared.

"The man who killed her parents!"

"No! It's yours, Scarhead! _Yours_!"

"Fuck you, pug-face! I didn't do this to Hermione."

"You certainly kept her from knowing herself! You're just as evil! You kept her wand from her! For no reason!" Pansy shouted.

"I did it to protect her!" 

"Bullshit! You did it because you're _selfish_!"

"No!" 

"Kept her locked up and ignorant like some animal!" 

It was clear from Pansy's words that Draco had shared a reasonable bit of Hermione's tale with his friends. And the realization that she didn't mind seemed to soothe her. Pansy's passionate defense of her, and the sheer anger currently in her shriek made Hermione appreciate her that much more.

"She had books," Harry screeched, and Hermione wanted to yell but settled for an eye roll.

"Merlin, Potter! Listen to yourself! Go home and sober up."

"Fuck you, Parkinson. I did everything I did to protect her!" Harry slurred.

"Oh? If it was to protect her, she wouldn't have tried to kill herself yesterday!" Pansy screamed, shoving Harry away from the door.

Harry's face fell in hysteria as a course of terror rippled through Hermione. She felt her breath catch and her lungs seemed to not wish to function. She sank down onto the bottom stair, clutching the handrail as tears sprang from her ducts. 

"What was that?" Healer Shelley's voice rang out as she appeared on the doorstep.

"Pansy… what? What do you mean?" Hermione whispered, tears slipping gradually down her cheeks.

"Mr. Potter, as Ms. Granger's Healer, I must ask you to leave."

"No way! Not after…"

"I will not ask again before I force you to leave, Mr. Potter!" 

"I'm an Auror! Don't you know who I am! You can't speak to me that way!" Harry shouted, slurs still evident in his voice.

"I frankly do not care _who_ you _think_ you are. You are just another petulant, drunk man who is currently causing my patient harm."

Harry looked somewhat offended as the Healer pushed him aside, taking hold of the large Parkinson estate front door.

"And if you are this drunk and on the job, you should be fired. Now please leave!" Healer Shelley shouted as she slammed the door closed in Harry's perplexed face.

Hermione couldn't feel her face. The oddest sensation, but she felt paralyzed once again. Had Pansy just said she tried to kill herself? Her eyes felt stiff and crossed as she stared at the floor, both hands clutching the handrail for any measure of security.

"Ms. Granger," rang through Hermione's ears and the static in her brain. "Ms. Granger, can you hear me?"

Hermione nodded gently as she lifted her eyes toward the woman clad in lime green hovered over her. She could see genuine concern in the Healer's eyes.

"Let us move into the sitting room. Are you okay with that, Ms. Granger?" Healer Shelley asked, and Hermione consented.

The stout woman pried Hermiomes fingers from the stairs' rail, and her arms fell limply at her side. She stood, shakily, as the woman slipped an arm about her waist, walking her into the familiar sofa. When her eyes settled on the place she had sat and seen Draco's Dark Mark mere days before, she began to cry more profoundly.

Healer Shelley lowered her onto the couch gradually, care in her movements. Pansy sat close beside her, their thighs touching, as she enveloped Hermione's hands in hers. A warmth spread throughout Hermione at her friend's touch.

"Ms. Granger, can you tell me what happened yesterday?" Healer Shelley asked as she perched in a chair opposite them.

"I… I don't really remember," Hermione started, sniffling as she spoke.

"Ms. Parkinson?" 

"Once you got here, yesterday, I went to Hermione's house. When I realized how much stuff there was, I called Draco over, and he helped me get everything. When we got back here, Hermione was asleep, so we came downstairs. But a few minutes later, we heard loud crashes from upstairs. Her bedroom door wouldn't open… like it was being blocked by something."

Pansy shuddered then, and Hermione realized she was crying. And the awareness made her sob deeper. Pansy's hands tightened on hers anew, holding tightly and refusing to release.

"It took a long time for us to get through. The bathroom door was locked when we got there, but Draco got through that one easier… It… it was awful. The mirror was shattered, the toilet and sink were cracked, and Hermione was in the shower…" Pansy continued, trying to take deep breaths as she spoke.

"Ms. Granger, you do not remember any of this?" 

Hermione swayed her head back and forth then.

"I'm… I'm so sorry, Pansy," she sobbed.

"Shh, Hermione. It's okay," Pansy uttered as she looped her arms around Hermione's shoulders, drawing her in and resting Hermione's head against her steady shoulder.

Hermione clutched to her then, crying long sobs as a heavy pressure fell over her again. Pansy shushed her, hugging her close and running a hand over her hair.

"Ms. Granger, you do not remember what caused this episode?" Healer Shelley questioned.

"No…" 

"You were asleep?" 

"She was, yes," Pansy supplied.

"Possibly a memory, then. Ms. Granger, I think our only course of action moving forward is to prescribe you mood leveling potions. So should another recollection startle you, you do not have accidental discharges of magic again. Or harm yourself." 

"Okay…" she uttered softly.

"I will send my elf with them when I arrive home. Ms. Granger, will you speak with me about how you feel today?" Healer Shelley urged.

Hermione simply shook her head, no.

"Then I will take my leave now so you can get your potions sooner. One each day with breakfast, Ms. Parkinson." 

"Of course. I've taken some time off work, so I will ensure they are taken," Pansy responded.

"I will see myself out. Expect my elf within minutes. One potion now and I will be back tomorrow morning," Healer Shelley commanded as she hoisted her bag and swept from the room.

"Pansy…" Hermione muttered.

"Shh, it's okay."

"Don't… don't take off work because of me…" 

"Hermione, your health and well-being are more important than some silly articles," Pansy said resolutely, clutching Hermione closer.

A small popping sound surrounded them then, as a tiny elf in a sharp suit appeared near the couch.

"Potions deliveries, Miss," the elf said, setting a bag on the table and popping away before anyone could respond.

Pansy dug into the bag and pulled a small vial of shimmering green into her hand. It held a sweet smell as she popped the cork out and held it to Hermione's salty lips.

The potion numbed her tongue slightly as Hermione swallowed. Within a moment, she felt a tingle throughout her fingers and toes, the tears in her eyes seemed to subside a bit.

She didn't feel happy. But she didn't feel as utterly sad, either. A swarm of guilt still invaded her gut as Pansy rose them, guiding Hermione back to her room. Once she was tucked into bed, Pansy offered her a bit of Dreamless Sleep potion, which she accepted graciously.

The last thing she saw as her eyes fluttered shut was once again Pansy's concerned gaze.


	17. October's First Days

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is a bit of a move time forward mashup. Going to post 4 chapters today because I'm a bit burnt out and want this done with.
> 
> and it finally gets fluffier after this. 
> 
> I do not own anything Harry Potter and I make no money from this story.

The closing days of September and the first several of October were a troubled hell for Hermione. Her Mind Healer appointments went reasonably poorly, causing her mostly heartache and headache. It had taken days for Hermione to ultimately express any sort of testament to her feelings. And it had been relatively scanty, admittedly. 

She found herself lying alert most nights. More frightened of falling asleep to the possible recollections that could plague her than the memories she had previously revived. Visions did penetrate her subconscious when Pansy forced her to rest, invalidating any level of Dreamless Sleep potion she consumed. And while most were positive, others were wholly disparaging. 

One particularly terrifying memory had been especially gut-churning. Hermione believed it was when she dueled Draco's father and other Death Eaters before he was jailed for her near death. The sight of her stomach as it burst open under a purple curse had startled her awake in piercing shrieks. 

That's when Pansy had taken to sleeping in her bed alongside her, disregarding Hermione's disputes. It had been initially somewhat awkward, but the nights she stirred in panic and Pansy inundated her with warmness had been soothing. 

The two women spent a great deal of time with each other as Pansy's sabbatical stretched into October. And Hermione was more than thrilled to have her around. To be able to call on her should she need anything. 

When her Mind Healer visits were downright dreadful, Pansy was the steady shoulder upon which Hermione could lean. She listened intently and refused to leave Hermione solitary for longer than 10 minutes at a time. While that had grown irksome at some points, say while she showered, Hermione couldn't debate the sense of peace throughout her at having someone who cared so deeply. 

Hermione had been somewhat surprised when Pansy showed up one Saturday afternoon with petite boxes in her hand. Once they were enlarged, under Hermione's wand with Pansy's direction, she realized her new roommate had reclaimed her belongings from Ron's home. And to Hermione's sheer satisfaction, she had more books than she could have ever dreamed. 

As their apparently unlikely friendship evolved, Pansy became a companion in learning magic. While Hermione hadn't honestly seen the necessity of a lip tinting spell, she had been utterly grateful for the lesson. She awoke the following morning with a fresh vision of her parents from Christmas time, and couldn't help but smile the day long. 

Coupled with Pansy's teachings, her magical exercises with her Mind Healer had been rather productive. Memories immersed her over the prior weeks, and her repressed subconsciousness appeared to be healing. 

Some of her earliest memories to return were of blithe giggles with Harry. Snowball fights on their school grounds. Laughing in the common room. Strolling within the Hogwarts halls. Joining him for drinks at the Leaky, with and without Ron. The birth of his first child, and the sheer exuberance on his features as he asked her to be James' godmother. 

It had been more than apparent to her that they were best mates. Even greater friends than she and Ron or Ginny. He always appeared to help her. Support her. Care for her and encourage her. But her mind battled her heart as to why he had lied so profoundly. 

She had wept to Healer Shelley, sharing the recollections and thoughts in one of her daily appointments, and the medi-witch suggested Hermione invite him to join a session. 

Harry eagerly accepted her invitation as the second week of October rolled around, much to Pansy's annoyance. Harry showed well before Healer Shelley did, and Hermione watched him tread back and forth in the front garden, running a hand through his hair and looking wholly worried. 

Healer Shelley met him several long minutes later, and they appeared to have a calming conversation. He deflated somewhat, nodding as she patted his back and escorted him toward the door, knocking lightly. 

"I can answer it," Pansy pronounced. 

"No, it's okay. I will get it." 

"Do you want me to stay?" 

"I think we should talk alone, but I appreciate it, Pansy. Truly." 

Pansy encased her in a tight hug before she nodded sharply and mildly stomped up the stairs, clearly still pestered by Harry's attendance. Hermione steeled herself with a deep breath, ambling to the door and opening it. 

"Good morning, Ms. Granger." 

"Hello, Healer Shelley. Harry…" 

"Hi, Hermione," Harry said quietly, his eyes cast down a touch. 

"The sitting room is this way," Hermione stated, outstretching her hand toward the room that held pained memories. 

Harry and the Healer trailed her, Harry's feet shuffling against the marble as he wrung his fingers somewhat. 

"If you'd both take a seat," Healer Shelley started, indicating the sofa Hermione had cried on numerous times. 

They both sat, entirely speechless for several long moments as the Healer simply observed them. Hermione desired to look at her supposed best mate but felt tears growing at the mere notion. 

"Mr. Potter, would you care to share with Ms. Granger what you did with me outside?" 

Harry looked slightly startled, but he furrowed his eyebrows and breathed deeply. 

"I'm so sincerely sorry, Hermione… I haven't been able to sleep. I feel so guilty." 

"You should…" she whispered, and he flinched. 

"I know… I know I screwed up." 

"You did more than that! You betrayed me!" Hermione roared, her pent up aggression exploding free. 

"I'm sorry…" 

"You should be! You're a deceiver!" 

"I know," he responded quietly, tears falling from his eyes. "I didn't mean to hurt you." 

"Well, you did! Deeply. How could you keep my wand from me?" Hermione shouted. 

Harry's eyes scanned the Healer's space, his features somewhat pleading, but she did nothing. It was clear she was going to stay out of their conversation as much as possible, to allow two should-be friends an open forum of discourse. To clear whatever air they needed. 

"I can't make excuses," he whispered when the Healer made no move to interject. "Everyone tried to tell me not to. Everyone. I didn't listen…" 

"And you decided to only show me half-truths! Half lies!" 

"I didn't want you to have to relive it!" Harry finally erupted. 

"That wasn't your right! I had the right to know!" 

"I know that now, Hermione. I'm so sorry!" 

"Sorry doesn't cover it, Harry! I had the right to know my true past. If you weren't going to be truthful, you shouldn't have shown me anything." 

"It took months for you to work through your torture! It was so hard to watch. You were a shell, just entirely not yourself. And when you went to find your parents, you…" 

"Find my parents?" Hermione interrupted his statement, absolute anxiety rippling past the anger in her stomach at his words. 

"I don't…" Harry sputtered slightly, glancing at Healer Shelley for what appeared to be confirmation. 

"Please share, Mr. Potter," she advised. 

Hermione observed as Harry swallow thickly, casting his eyes toward the ground with a sheen. He inhaled a few times deeply, taking calming breaths before he spoke quietly. 

"You had to find your parents because you… You erased their memories of yourself…" 

"What?" Hermione muttered quietly, tears suddenly leaking from her eyes slowly. 

"I don't know if…" 

"This is the right forum to share, Mr. Potter," Healer Shelley said, and Harry nodded. 

"Before we went on the run, you Oblivated them. Erased yourself. You didn't tell anyone for months, just dealt with it silently. Even then, you only told Ron and I. After the war, you left. You planted thoughts of Australia in their minds, and they moved there." 

"I don't… why would I do something so heartless?" Hermione cried. 

"You did it to protect them. They would have been tortured for information about us. You were right. Death Eaters almost destroyed their house searching for them." 

Hermione couldn't speak behind the sobs she heard falling from her lips. All she could muster was a nod he continued to talk. 

"You had hardly healed from your torture and the battle before you got on a plane. It took months for you to find them. And most of your money to fly in a specialized Healer from America…" 

Hermione felt the weighted pressure over her form anew and noticed Healer Shelley's sad gaze. She couldn't stop crying at the knowledge Harry was yielding, and she felt somewhat paralyzed again. Unwilling to accept what sounded like even further harsh reality. 

"I didn't want you to have to relive that so soon after they... I didn't want you to lose all the progress you made… but I failed regardless." 

Hermione felt like she couldn't breathe again. Her toes felt numb, and her mood potion seemed to be waning, allowing sheer grief to wash over her as she cried. Harry set his hand on hers, atop her knee, and she cried a tad hard as his warmth wicked over her skin. 

"Thank you, Harry…" 

"What?" He uttered, somewhat quietly. 

"I… thank you for helping me. For caring. For… trying to protect me." 

"I'm so sorry, 'Mione. I went about it all wrong. I just didn't want you to suffer." 

"I understand, Harry. I… appreciate what you did." 

"Truly?" 

"I think if you'd shown me any of that so soon after their… deaths, I wouldn't have been able to cope. Knowing I had lost so much precious time with them…" 

Harry scooted across the couch then and enveloped his arms about her shoulders. She felt an absolute calmness settle in her gut as she circled her arms about him and cried into his shoulder. 

"I'm so sorry, 'Mione," he whispered, running his head down her back. "I'm so sorry." 

Hermione wept a while longer as Harry comforted her. Holding her close as he cried himself. Healer Shelley concluded their meeting some while later, telling Hermione she would be back the next morning. Suggesting she not be alone for the remainder of the day. Hermione had agreed, knowing Pansy would allow her shoulder for tears. 

Hermione trailed her two guests to the door, and Harry paused before stepping fully out. 

"Would you like to come back and stay at Grimmauld?" Harry proposed. 

"No, thank you, Harry. I quite like living with Pansy, truly." 

"Then will you at least meet me for tea?" 

"That sounds lovely, Harry," Hermione responded, and the relief that coursed across Harry's face was visible. 

"I will owl you, okay?" 

"Sure, Harry. I look forward to it." 

Harry gave her a delicate nod, hesitating for a moment before he enveloped her in a crushing hug before he followed Healer Shelley from the door. His owl arrived that evening, asking her to join him the next day for tea in his home, which she had gladly accepted. 

As the third week in October breezed about, Hermione and Pansy sat picking at a light breakfast together. Twink, the Parkinson house-elf, had made them both fluffy crepes with a side of berries. Hermione was already in a foul mood, having read the paper that arrived with a headline regarding her. 

_Golden Girl Gone Again?_

"This is nonsense," Hermione snarled, tossing the paper over her shoulder with a huff. "Whoever Rita Skeeter is should be sacked." 

"There's a reason I don't work for that drivel," Pansy laughed. "Speaking of work, I'm to travel to Milan on Thursday," Pansy said. 

"Oh, that sounds luxurious," Hermione cooed, but Pansy groaned loudly. 

"Not necessarily. The designer I'm to interview is so stuffy. Old school. And frankly rather handsy." 

"Why take the assignment then?" 

"He's a great contact to have," she shrugged. "Will you be okay? I can have someone come stay with you." 

"I'll be fine, Pansy. Thank you." 

A giant eagle owl drove its beak into the kitchen window then, startling both of the women and the small elf. 

"Merlin, can't that bird do anything quietly?" Pansy rued as Hermione laughed softly. "Well, you get it. It's your boyfriend," Pansy continued, jutting a fork toward the window with a suggestive grin. 

"He's not!" 

"Sure, Granger, whatever you say." 

Hermione felt her face flush as she rose, opening the window for the familiar avian. It hooted aloud and nuzzled her hand as it dropped a missive to the counter. Her given name was scrawled across the wax-sealed envelope, and she smiled at the sight. 

_Granger,_

_Are you well this morning?_

_I apologize I didn't write back yesterday. Work grew unbearable, and I barely floo'd home before falling asleep. Today won't be much more enjoyable._

_But I wanted to make sure I was able to tell you good morning._

_Draco_

_PS: Niamh still misses you. She sleeps in your nook every day._

Hermione couldn't help the more profound grin as she reread the missive. 

When she awoke the day after the draining confrontation between Pansy and Harry some weeks ago, her roommate had shared more about her episode in the shower. Draco had apparently been the one to heal her arms and stayed with her that night. He left early the next morning, apparently feeling somewhat guilty at forcing his presence onto Hermione's vulnerable state. 

When Pansy handed her the rolled scroll Draco had sent while she slept, she had cried again. It was a simple letter asking after her health. Ensuring her Mind Healer appointment hadn't disturbed her too much that day. 

Hermione had responded with profuse apologies for causing him distress. For making him worry over her. Urging and practically forcing him to view awful memories that he likely didn't wish to relive. For being so utterly selfish in her actions and her demands. 

His letter returned promptly, telling her simply that he would do anything within his power for her. And she had smiled comfortably for the first time in days. 

After that, he owled daily. His notes began as innocent messages asking Hermione how she was but dissolved quickly into explanations of his day. Telling her about contracts he had penned and the business deals he had executed. 

Discussing the books that she was reading and sending her copies of those he currently held dear. 

Asking her what charms Pansy taught her and begging her to read a " _real_ spellbook for _useful_ enchantments" at her reply. 

He inundated her books of spells after that. Some from their Hogwarts years, followed by a few tombs of advanced magicks. Complete thrill had coursed through her at receiving books she hadn't already owned, smiling while arranging them on the shelves Pansy had fashioned in her room. 

Draco had even delivered on his promise of a hair potion from his mother. And she had cried tears that couldn't be helped as her hair began to grow quicker. Filling her head with unruly, _long_ , springing curls. The curls her grandmother loved dearly. 

"Well, isn't that just adorable," Pansy snickered from behind, carrying out her concluding word as she pulled Hermione to the present. 

"Pansy!" Hermione shrieked, tucking the letter out of sight with a faint blush. 

"Oh, hush. You should go see him, you know." 

"I don't know…" 

"Why _Potter_ but not him?" 

"Harry had his reasons, Pansy. I've told you. Plus, Draco hasn't asked to see me... I wouldn't want to impose." 

"I know, I know. And I can assure you, he wants to see you. He's just too nervous blatantly express it." 

Pansy's statement spread a small smile across Hermione's face that seemed to linger throughout the week. She met Harry that Wednesday for tea, and when he discovered Hermione would be left alone for the next two days, he insisted she come stay at Grimmauld. 

Hermione had been adamant; she would be alright. That her mental state wasn't as it had been. But she had only succeeded in dwindling him down to dinner each night. 

When Thursday night fell, she met the Potter's for dinner, which had been a great reprieve from the suffocating silence Pansy's absence had brought. She, Harry, and Ginny spent the evening laughing together after the children were put to sleep. 

Two letters roared through the floo as the trio perched in the sitting room, sipping after-dinner drinks and watching the tele. The letters descended themselves onto the coffee table, and Harry groaned. 

"That'll be the Hallowe'en party invitations," Harry tutted, flicking his wand and levitating the invites into the rubbish bin. 

"That foolishness," Ginny muttered. 

"The what?" Hermione inquired, curiosity printed on her features. 

"Every year, the Ministry throws some function to try and drag us out to public appearances," Ginny lamented as she rolled her eyes. 

"I haven't remembered any of those yet." 

"Oh, you won't. You denounced those stuffy parties just as much as us. We've never been," Harry chuckled. 

"Are they that awful?" Hermione challenged. 

"Well, I guess we wouldn't know… But I can't imagine they'd be any fun." 

"I think I'd like to go," Hermione spoke quietly, and both Ginny and Harry's faces rose in shock. 

"Are you sure, 'Mione? It might be overwhelming." 

"I'm sure. I want to show everyone that I am alright. That I am healing. To stop those foolish articles about my _disappearance_." 

"Okay… Then we'll go," Ginny volunteered. 

"Oh, you don't have to go with me. You just said you despise these things." 

"We're not allowing you to suffer solo. Those stodgy Ministry figures won't leave you alone if we do," Harry laughed somewhat as he stood, retrieving the invites from the waste. "Looks like these are just mine and Gin's. Maybe they sent yours to Parkinson's?" 

"Harry, would you call her Pansy already?" 

"No way I'm calling that pug-face by her name," Ginny bewailed with a loud yawn. 

"Ginny!" 

"You can't deny it!" Ginny exclaimed as she rose, kissing Harry on the cheek. 

"Pansy is a lovely woman," Hermione lectured, and Ginny simply shrugged, a laugh on her lips. 

Ginny left them then, still looking utterly exhausted. Hermione knew she must be. Two small children and running a house this large couldn't be easy. Couldn't allow her enough sleep. 

When Harry settled next to her on the sofa again, they sat in a deep companionable silence sipping their drinks. He an aged firewhiskey and she water. It was comfortable to relax with him, reflecting over their own thoughts, yet somehow soothing away any fears the other possessed. 

"Harry, may I ask you more questions?" Hermione searched, quietly, some while later. 

After her session with Harry, Healer Shelley had encouraged Hermione to ask questions. To gain clarity about her fogged memories rather than remaining in obscurity as she had been. And Harry had been an immense help in filling massive lapses between recollected visions. 

"Of course, 'Mione." 

"I keep seeing us camping in my dreams. And I remember it from your memories." 

"We weren't camping…" Harry started noiselessly. "That's when we were on the run." 

"It was just us?" 

"Mostly, yes. Ron was there for part of it…" 

"Part?" 

"He eventually left us. It was just you and I for months." 

The memory Draco had revealed to her instantly snapped into place in her brain. Of he and Ron in the pub, warning him to go into hiding. He had run into Ron when Ron had run away. 

"Why was I with Ron?" She asked, somewhat cautiously. "Everything I remember of him is arguments. And now this..." 

"You two have been very turbulent." 

"That much is obvious, Harry, but why?" 

"He never truly accepted you and Malfoy's... history. When you presented those memories at their trial, he didn't behave the same after. You guys had always argued. Or rather bickered. But… he really didn't take that well." 

"That's ridiculous." 

"The night you and your parents got into your accident, he called you a Death Eater's slag…" 

"What?" Hermione said, anger tracing her tone instantly. 

"He felt so guilty after everything happened…" Harry started, as he leaned forward, his elbows falling to his knees. He took a swig of whiskey and swirled his glass somewhat as his gaze grew uneasy. 

"He told me you kept saying Malfoy's name in your sleep. That you fought, and he chose not to go to dinner with you that night. He feels like everything that happened was his fault." 

"He didn't make that man drive drunk…" 

A sadness settled in her gut at Harry's words as she realized how her anger may have been somewhat misplaced. That Ron actually _may_ have been affected by her accident. Surely not to her degree, but he had possessed a pang of guilt on his consciousness for months. 

"And his behavior when you woke up…" 

"Was appalling." 

"Yeah. He told me a few weeks ago that he was trying to be like Malfoy… So you'd love him instead." 

"I don't love Draco…" 

"Sure," Harry nodded, but his expression held skepticism as he gazed at his whiskey. 

"And Ron's behavior was so detached from Draco's, it's absurd he thinks so." 

"It wasn't really, 'Mione. Malfoy always acted that way toward us. Haughty. Too good for us." 

"Not to me," Hermione said softly, a small smile gliding over her features at their shared memories. At his sweet demeanor since. 

"You never really shared much about your… friendship with him." 

"It was a hair more than friendship." 

"It's obviously more than friendship, 'Mione. He wouldn't be doing all he is if it wasn't." 

"He's been quite accommodating." 

"And I'm loathed to admit the ferret has done _anything_ useful." 

"Harry! You shouldn't call him a ferret." 

"That one will never go away," Harry snorted with a somewhat happy smile, sitting back against the couch again. 

"Thank you, Harry." 

"Of course. You shouldn't have to thank me, 'Mione. I should have been telling you these things for months..." 

When she floo'd home that night, there was an elegant envelope addressed to her on the coffee table. She smiled slightly as she opened it, pulled out her wand, and successfully marked the "Yes" box. When she sealed the envelope, it sprang to life and headed straight toward the floo, Hermione watching it with a soft smile as it disappeared. 


	18. Dress Shopping Adventure

"Granger!" She overheard beckoning as the floo rumbled to life downstairs the next morning. Closing her book and setting it aside, Hermione furrowed her brow slightly.

"Hermione! Get your arse down here!"

"Pansy?" She inquired from the top of the stairs, and she could practically hear the eye-roll printed in the scoff she got in acknowledgment.

"Who else would it be, Granger, honestly."

"Well, I wasn't expecting you home today," Hermione retorted as she descended the stairs.

"Well, of course not. I told you I'd be home tomorrow. Get dressed," Pansy instructed.

Pansy's sleek black hair was pulled into a tight ponytail that cascaded down her back, obviously charmed for extra length. She wore a tight, dark green dress that landed right between her knees and thighs. She looked immaculate from head to toe, per usual when she left home, and Hermione grimaced somewhat at her own appearance.

"I am dressed," Hermione replied, indicating her jumper and loose-fitting joggers with a roll of her hand, feeling wholly inadequate.

"Uh… no. Real dressed. We're going shopping."

"Shopping? For what? Aren't you supposed to be on a work trip?"

"A little birdie let slip that you're going to the Ministry's Hallowe'en ball. So, bugger work. Shopping!"

"But… who?"

"Narcissa plans the event, Hermione. Keep up," Pansy bemoaned.

"I can't keep up with your insanity, Pansy."

"Get dressed!"

Hermione groaned at that. "I hate shopping. Truly."

"Well, you've never gone with me! Pip pip!" When Hermione didn't move briskly enough, Pansy snapped her fingers. "Hop to it! Haven't got all day, Granger!"

"Fine, _Pans_!" Hermione said with a huff as she went to dress, Pansy laughing as she vanished from sight.

"Nice clothing! We've got appointments at fancy places!" Hermione heard shouted up after her as she stomped toward her room.

She truly hated shopping. Trying on clothing and footwear had scarcely been a pleasant experience in her youth. And she had denied her mother trips to the shops more often than not. Judging by the reasonably dull wardrobe that she knew waited for her, that had cared over into her adult life.

As she stood in front of her wardrobe, a simple periwinkle sundress called out to her. As she pulled it out, her mind wandered to her mother and the times they had shared. She mulled over her mother's appeals, urging her to go shopping. Realizing for the first time that the offers weren't to possibly change her appearance, but to share experiences with each other. And it saddened her somewhat at the lost opportunities, tears watering along her lower lids.

Hermione penned a quick note to Harry. Informing him that she was going shopping with Pansy and might be a tad tardy to their regular supper time. She grabbed a coat and swung it over her arms, pocketing her wand, before heading downstairs.

Pansy was rapping her heel on the ground when Hermione entered the sitting room a few minutes later.

"Merlin, finally. We've got less than 5 minutes now!"

"5 minutes until what?"

"Our portkey."

"A portkey?" Hermione grinned. She had read of the artifacts and their uses for long-distance travel but hadn't encountered one.

"Yes. Here, hold this side," Pansy instructed as she held out a small ceramic plate. "Hurry," she said when Hermione stalled somewhat.

When her hand grasped the cold vessel, it was mere moments before she was tugged away. It felt like a hook was pulling her naval backward, and queasiness settled in her gut. Just for a moment, she felt stretched until her skin seemed to slap back into place as their feet hit solid ground.

"Pansy, where are we?" Hermione breathed as she took in their surrounding, nausea in her gut slowly fading.

People hummed and walked swiftly by them, but no one seemed to be rushing. Wafts of delicious food invaded her nose, and she sighed as if she'd never detected aromas so delicious. The street Pansy pulled her onto was crowded, but people seemed to move with purpose. She had a feeling she knew where they might be, but it was impossible.

"Paris."

She had been correct. She and Pansy had just been in their living room, and now they stood on a cobblestone street in Paris. She marveled at how powerful and stunning magic could be.

"I've never been to Paris. Or… I can't remember ever going," Hermione stated as she fell into pace with Pansy.

"Well, our portkey home isn't until later, so we can explore a bit," Pansy grinned. "First, you need a dress. Shoes?" Her tone a question, but she didn't let Hermione answer. "Who am I kidding. Of course, shoes."

"I have shoes!"

"But do you have heels, Granger?"

"Well… no. They seem insensible."

"Oh, they make loads of sense. To the right man." Pansy shot her a salacious wink, and Hermione felt herself blush at the implication.

The pair strolled along the busy path until Pansy came to a halt outside a posh boutique storefront with stunning gowns in the window. Hermione furrowed her brow slightly as she gazed in. Everything had a demeanor of sophistication that she knew came with a price tag she couldn't afford.

"Pansy, I'm not sure I can afford any of this," she said meekly.

"It's on me," Pansy said with a straight face.

"Oh, Pansy, I can't ask you to do that! You've already done so much," Hermione started, but Pansy held up a hand.

"This is just as much for me as it is for you. When someone asks who dressed _the_ Hermione Granger for the biggest event of the year, I'll get to say it was me. Imagine the business I'll get."

"Plus, Draco will owe me," she added and laughed when Hermione's face flushed beet red. "Come on, then," she ordered, pulling Hermione into the quiet boutique.

"Pansy?" A regal voice called out as the door closed behind them.

"Mum!" Her counterpart squealed and ran to embarrass a tall, ethereal looking woman that Hermione recognized almost immediately. "What are you doing here?"

"I imagine the same as you. A new dress for the Ministry reception." The woman gave Pansy a bright smile as she pulled back and inspected her. "More radiant every day, dear."

"Oh, mum! I've got someone with me you should meet," Hermione heard Pansy say, and panic raced in her gut as her friend pulled the woman along toward her. "Mum, this is Hermione Granger."

There was no doubt in Hermione's mind now. Standing in front of her was none other than Draco's mother. The absolutely elegant, regal, demure blonde woman who now eyed her was undoubtedly Narcissa Malfoy. The woman who had watched her tortured by her own sister. Who had gone to extensive lengths to save her own son. Who had inadvertently freed the entirety of wizarding Britain in doing so.

The beautiful blonde woman held out a delicate hand and smiled serenely at Hermione. "Ms. Granger, it is so nice to meet you... properly. Narcissa Malfoy."

"It's... it's wonderful to meet you," Hermione stammered as she clasped Narcissa's hand lightly, a shocked expression on her face.

Dropping Hermione's hand, Narcissa addressed Pansy with a sweet smile. "I've just picked my dress. I was taking my leave, actually. So I'll leave you two to it."

"Oh, mum, please stay! I'm sure we would both value your opinion!" Pansy begged. "Right, Hermione?"

"Oh. Uh, yes. That would be nice," Hermione gave the two a small smile, but her insides were twisting over on themselves.

"I wouldn't want to intrude, dear."

"We insist! You must stay," Pansy demanded, and Hermione gave a brief nod as Narcissa's gaze landed on her. She had a look on her face that Hermione couldn't read, but it made her stomach flip anew.

"Well, alright. You've convinced me. Nicolas," and the man who had been standing the corner sauntered over with speed to Narcissa's side. "This is my daughter Pansy and her dear friend Hermione." The man bowed and kissed both of their hands. "We'll be needing a dress for each."

An hour later, Hermione was frustrated. She had donned at least ten gowns that all three women had been unable to agree upon. _This_ was why she hated shopping.

"One more?" came Nicolas' deep french twang as propped open her fitting room door. He unzipped the bag and drew out a stunning dusty blue gown.

And the dress nearly took Hermione's breath away. She rose slowly, setting her water aside as her mouth fell open, unable to close. She approached somewhat apprehensively. As if the dress were a wild animal that would run should she move too quickly and spook it.

She took a moment to truly take herself in as Nicolas assisted her into the gown. It was an absolute tulle dream. The illusion neckline sat low in front but gave her breasts an almost enchanting level of cleavage.

The bodice was wrapped in a luxurious silver floral and vine patterned lace, somewhat resembling her wand. It worked its way up her shoulder and down over her hips onto the floor-length tulle skirt. As she turned, she noticed the low cut backline which sat just above her hips. The delicate lace traced intricate floral patterns across her back that echoed the beauty of the front.

"Magnifique," Nicolas spoke and pulled her from her attention with a radiant smile. "Show your mother?" He asked, and Hermione simply nodded.

It stung a touch to remember _her_ mother wasn't sitting in the showroom waiting, but she put on a small smile regardless.

She wanted to cry when she stepped onto the pedestal and gazed at herself in the framed mirrors. She had never felt this beautiful. Or at least, she couldn't remember a time that she had cared. She imagined this was how her younger self felt as she waltzed the Great Hall during the Yule Ball.

"Darling... you look stunning. My son is a lucky man," Narcissa said. She set her hands on Hermione's shoulders, looking her in the eye through the sizable picturesque mirror with a delicate smile. "He won't know what to do with himself," she chuckled.

Hermione's heart hammered somewhat at Narcissa's confession. It was clear Draco had talked to his mother about her. About them. And she didn't know how to feel about that.

"Are you sure it isn't too much?" Hermione said shyly.

"Oh, no. It is perfect. _You_ are perfect."

"Thank you," Hermione whispered.

"Dear, I must thank _you,"_ Narcissa responded and held a hand up to Hermione through the mirror when she started to retort. Narcissa spun her then and settled her hands back onto Hermione's shoulders.

"I must thank you for giving my son a second chance. He did many unforgivable things as a child. I know how long he has harbored a crush for you, but he never thought he would get a chance."

And Hermione could only nod somewhat as redness grew deeper over her face. Narcissa sounded as though she wished to slip a ring over her finger at this very moment. And Hermione had scarcely seen Draco in the last month. Her cheeks flamed as the thoughts of what he could have told his mother invaded her mind.

"It… warms my heart that you've given Draco even the slightest forgiveness."

"He's done so much for me since my accident."

"And he will do more, I have no doubt," Narcissa smiled, and Hermione could see a sheen of unshed tears over her irises. "I do hope I will also be able to win your forgiveness."

"Of course," Hermione said with a nod, trying to hold back her own tears that threatened her ducts.

"Hermione, you look stunning!" Pansy's voice sounded as she slipped into view. And Hermione was utterly grateful for her presence.

She looked stunning, draped in a dark plum dress that hung loosely yet still managed to form her figure perfectly. The perfect image of a Greek Goddess.

"So do you, Pansy."

"Both of my girls look wonderful," Narcissa cooed as Pansy stepped onto the pedestal beside Hermione.

And Hermione couldn't help the darker blush at being referred to as one of Draco's mother's "girls."

"Do we all agree these are your dresses?" Narcissa questioned, and both Pansy and Hermione sang their approvals.

"Then, they are my treat. Nicolas, please put this lovely pair of gowns on my account."

Pansy hopped off the platform and wrapped Narcissa in a hug. Hermione stepped down behind her and could only smile as tears welled and fell from her eyes.

"Come here, sweetheart," Narcissa said softly, and Pansy stepped aside. She held out her arms wide, and Hermione nearly fell into them.

The pure motherly love that radiated from Draco's mother enveloped her as she cried. She had missed this type of affection so dearly. She hadn't even realized the pain that was sitting on her heart. As Narcissa shushed her, running a soft hand down her curls, she cried a bit harder.

"I'm sorry," Hermione laughed through her tears, trying to soothe herself.

"No need to apologize, dear," Narcissa said with a sweet smile. "Now, run and get out of that dress."

The three shopped for hours after that, along the busy streets of Paris. Hermione had been forced into a rather tall, for her, pair of heels and learned witches generally cast steadying and cushioning charms to help them walk. Sensible, she thought.

Narcissa bought her a slew of new clothing, from new denim jeans to rather sleek professional dresses and pencil skirts. Flirty shirts she would have never chosen for herself, and a few knicker sets she would absolutely never wear.

But the joy on the woman's face as they strolled and talked and shopped had been infectious. And Hermione couldn't dampen their mood.

They portkeyed home separately after a delicious dinner, and both Pansy and Hermione fell into her bed, utterly exhausted. And even though Pansy snored that night, Hermione couldn't remove the smile from her lips as she fell asleep.


	19. Few New Friends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another cute filler chapter that moves the story forward slightly. :) 
> 
> I do not own Harry Potter and I make no money writing this story.

The days leading up to Hallowe'en verged on peacefulness.

Healer Shelley had been deeply impressed with the progress Hermione made as their daily appointments came to an end. And Hermione had to admit, she missed them somewhat. The two agreed to continue weekly sessions as Hermione's memories continued to trickle in gradually.

Hermione attended a dinner with Harry and Ron one evening, and the red-head had been much more tolerable. Virtually an entirely different person. He had begun the night by apologizing for his behavior after her accident, and for the things they argued over before it.

Harry left them after a somewhat awkward dinner to speak privately. While they had been silent for quite some time, they eventually settled their estrangements. She admitted she couldn't remember their entire relationship, but Ron had been very forthright, agreeing that what they had in the past was toxic. That his jealousy was virulent, and her heart had been elsewhere. And that they were both selfish in trying to keep something alive that never truly lived.

After they both apologized, crying soft sobs, Ron informed her that he had met someone. Or rather re-met Susan Bones, who they had all apparently attended school with. He said they had hit it off rather famously when she visited Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes and had a wonderful time on their first date. He looked so sparkling as he spoke of her that Hermione couldn't deny the happiness she felt on his behalf.

And while his face had grown somewhat red with a slight sneer, he did attempt to seem as happy as possible when she announced she'd been communicating with Draco.

George and Angelina had come to Pansy's home one night for dinner, arms full of Molly Weasley's cooking. And an entire cake his mother had baked. George had apologized extensively, but Hermione told him he needed not. Harry had explained that he was the most prominent voice trying to spout reason. But he had apologized numerous times that night regardless.

When Pansy joined them for drinks after dinner, they all had a rather pleasant time. Eating so much cake that she had laid awake in her bed from a pure sugar rush, a small smile on her lips.

When Hallowe'en morning finally came, Ogma greeted her at the kitchen window with a customary loud hoot.

_Granger,_

_  
It mystifies me why Mother chooses to hold these silly banquets on business days. I have a rather late schedule tonight.  
  
_

_But I will be there. And I cannot wait to see you._

_  
I hope your Healer appointment goes well today._

_  
I will see you tonight._

_  
Draco_

The flutter of happiness as she reread his final line had filled her throughout the day. She couldn't help the grin that lingered over her features as she floo'd into St. Mungos that afternoon.

The walls of the ward felt brighter as she paced solo toward the seating area. Healer Smith called her back with a brilliant smile, and she sensed it wick across her skin. Felt her own smile stretch as they sat down with one another.

"You look happy, Ms. Granger."

"It comes and goes, depending on the day. But I feel better."

"And you're still attending appointments with Healer Shelley? Your mood potions?"

"Yes, every Wednesday. And I take them every day."

"Wonderful. And memories?"

"New ones return every night," Hermione smiled slightly.

"Excellent. Let's run your scans, shall we?"

His magic prickled across her skin, and she giggled somewhat at the tickled sensation. Healer Smith smiled brilliantly as he dropped his wand moments after.

"Everything looks excellent, Ms. Granger. You have made substantial progress. I think we can shift our appointments every two weeks moving forward."

"Tired of seeing my face, Healer Smith?" Hermione joked, and the Healer let out a peal of laughter.

"I should think you'd be tired of seeing mine," he laughed and let a beautiful grin fall over his lips. "So long as you stay on your mood potions, I don't see a need for any further restrictions at this point."

"Meaning?"

"You may return to work as you please. Unless it becomes too cumbersome. Apparition is approved, so long as you pass the test. And feel free to have a firewhiskey or wine with dinner tonight," he smiled.

"Thank you, Healer Smith. For everything."

"Jennings, if you'd like. We've spent enough time together, first names should be acceptable."

"Jennings, then. Thank you for everything, Jennings," Hermione smiled.

He stood and held out his hand to the door, opening it slowly as she approached, a soft smile on his face.

"Hermione, please don't think me too forward," he began as she paused in the door frame. "But would you like to get dinner one night?"

"As in, a date?" Hermione asked, somewhat shyly.

"If you'd like to label it, yes."

"Well… I."

"Say no more. I knew it was a long shot."

"It is not that, Jennings. You seem like a lovely man. But… I'm… I think I'm seeing someone."

"Then he is a lucky bloke," Jennings said with a bright smile. "I shall see you in two weeks?"

"On the dot."

When Hermione's feet landed in her and Pansy's hearth she overheard bombastic music blaring down the stairs. She approached Pansy's door, and detected at least three voices on the other side singing, quite terribly.

Hermione giggled as she pushed open the door, only to be greeted with three smiling faces clad in silk dressing gowns. Twink was twirling in circles in the corner, wearing what looked like a new dress.

"Hermione! You're home!" Pansy screeched, a happy smile over her features. She flicked her wand, and the music lowered as the other two women groaned.

"Oh, shut it. Hermione, do you remember Millie and Daphne? They were your Healers at Mungos when you woke up."

Their faces finally pulled forward in her mind. But they looked completely different out of their lime green robes and with time aging their faces from Draco's memories. Both beautiful and full of life. Their smiles presenting Hermione a bit of cheer to adhere further to.

"They're going to the reception tonight, so I thought we can all get ready together!"

"That sounds nice," Hermione smiled. "Millie. Daphne. It's lovely to see you again. I should really thank you both," Hermione said hesitantly as she paced into the room, sitting on a settee near Pansy's window.

"Nonsense! We were doing our jobs. And we are thrilled you're healing well," Daphne smiled.

"Oh, speaking of healing. Your appointment?" Pansy inquired as she pulled her wet hair down from a towel.

"It went well."

"Good. Then go get showered and get your arse back in here," Pansy smiled.

And Hermione had. Even though Pansy knocked on the door at least three times to check on her, she had.

When she reentered Pansy's room a bit later, the music was blaring again, and the three girls and elf were swirling about. They all seemed so festive and carefree, and their laughter tried to invade Hermione's pores.

Pansy seized a bottle of champagne from her vanity then and popped the cork with her wand.

"Anyone?" She laughed, hoisting the bottle a bit.

All girls raised their hands, even Hermione, as she sauntered back into the room, perching on the settee once more.

"Oh, breaking the rules, Granger?" Pansy chuckled, pouring five flutes nearly to their brim and flicking her wand to distribute them.

"Jennings said I was allowed alcohol again."

"Oh, gods. Did he tell you to call him Jennings today?" Millie squealed with a splendid amusement on her face.

"Yes, he was rather nice about it."

"It's not even his name!" Daphne shrieked loudly. "His name is Todrick. And he tells everyone to call him Jennings because he thinks it'sso cool."

"He asked me on a date today," Hermione giggled somewhat inelegantly.

"Oh, Merlin! That man is such a whore!" Daphne snickered.

"Will ask anything out that has legs and a heartbeat," Millie guffawed, and they all joined in with her.

Hermione couldn't help the laughs that tumbled from her lips that afternoon. It felt so genuine to act her age. To be a young adult preparing for a party with her friends. Merely trying to enjoy life. Singing. Dancing. Sipping inordinately expensive champagne.

When Pansy hauled her into the vanity chair, attempting to paint her face with makeup, she had drawn the line. Hermione allowed mascara and a dab of lip color but left the rest of her skin untouched. She loved the small freckles about her nose and the lines starting to form on her face. And she didn't want to cover them.

When they tried to run a slickening potion through her hair, she had ducked. And her friends had chased her about the room. It was slightly juvenile, she knew, but Hermione couldn't deny she was having fun. She had ultimately won out, and her abundant curls were a rowdy mess about her head. And she loved it.

When Daphne asked if she wanted to conceal the scar on her face with a charm, she had thought rather long. About shielding her pain. Hiding her loss. Covering her discomfort. And resolutely decided to keep it unhidden as she gazed at herself in the mirror, seeing her parents' bright smiles.

And when she saw her reflection after donning her dress, she had cried. Which Pansy bemoaned much, fanning her face to stay her mascara with unshed tears in her own eyes. But she couldn't help it.

She felt utterly beautiful. A foreign feeling that seemed to empower her. To calm her. It seemed to make her feel like this wasn't a dream, and that things would get better eventually. That she was slowly learning to be the woman she was now while remembering the girl she had once been.


	20. A Magical Ball

Hermione, Pansy, Millie, and Daphne floo'd collectively to the Ministry that night, all smiles and somewhat drunken giggles as they hoarded into the hearth. Hermione could feel the tension in her cheeks from their laughter throughout the day and embraced it with glee.

Her head swiveled around as they landed in the emerald chambers of the Ministry, pure amazement in her eyes. Harry's memories and her own glimpses she had returned did nothing to show the building's utter beauty. 

The walls appeared to glisten beneath a soft simulated light. It was more than apparent they were underground, but the room felt massive. Like an open-air market stuffed with vendors, and smiling faces, and pure noise as people spoke. The golden fountains that littered the place looked somewhat excessive, but she couldn't deny their beauty.

Hermione noticed wizards and witches in their offices, noses stuck in papers, and a longing grew in her gut. She wondered if her office had an atrium view, or if she was stuck in some hole in the wall fit for a junior employee. She questioned where her department was, or if it was even a department at all. 

"Hermione!" Pansy chuckled loudly as she clasped her hand. "Merlin, come on."

"Sorry, Pansy. It's just so pretty."

"Oh! I forgot this was your first time back. Trust me, what Mum's done with the ballroom will be loads better than this!"

And Pansy had been utterly correct. Narcissa had truly outdone herself.

Hermione was speechless as the door attendants rapped their staffs, announcing their arrival with a bang as the doors swung open. The dome ceiling above had been charmed to show a stunning starry twilight sky. Clouds flittered in front of the thin, crescent moon, casting shadows of the dim light onto the floor below. 

Walking through the doors was like wandering into an enchanted forest. Soft blue lighting illuminated the chamber, and the walls were lined with tall trees that draped floral laden branches delicately beyond patrons' heads. The flowers seemed to shimmer, shifting colors depending on the angle at which you observed them.

Tables pervaded the hall around an expansive dance floor, decorated with towering bare trees jutting from the center. A surreal juxtaposition from the vines of flowers nearly kissing their branches. Soft candles flickered against the table linens, brightening the arrangements with a soft radiance.

The room was topped with a large stage, on which what appeared to be a full orchestra sat, saturating the room with soft tones.

Men clad in white tuxedos wandered with trays of hors d'oeuvres and spirits, masks covering their faces as patrons snagged their offered goods.

It was genuinely difficult to recognize they were in the same place as the emerald halls behind her. The surge of magic took her breath away as she slowly paced through the doors, losing herself somewhat in the surrealism.

"'Mione!" came a familiar voice from the crowd. 

Harry and Ginny emerged a moment later, nodding their heads to a man in bright yellow robes with a headdress as they hurried away.

"Thank, Merlin," Ginny bemoaned as they approached. "He was a nightmare!" 

"The Brazilian Prime Minister is a nice man, Weaselette," Pansy said with a small leer. 

"Pug-face. Thanks for bringing 'Mione. We'll take over from here," Ginny sneered.

"Ah! You're all here! Great!" Kingsley Shaklebolt boomed as he stepped up between Pansy and Ginny. "Harry, Hermione, would you mind joining me on stage?" 

"Of course, Kings," Harry responded.

"Of course, Minister," Hermione said, and the purple-clad man's face dropped slightly. "Pansy, you go have fun." 

"You sure?" Pansy questioned.

"Yes, I'll be fine."

"Alright, well as soon as you want to leave, come get me." 

"She's with us, she'll be fine," Ginny declared with a roll of her eyes.

Pansy wrinkled her nose and rolled her eyes as she bid Hermione farewell, joining Millie and Daphne on the far side of the hall.

It had been relatively uncomfortable as they join Kingsley on stage. The Minister spoke of their heroics, their valiant struggles, most of which she couldn't recall. It was an odd sensation gazing out over the sea of people she didn't know while they cheered for her. Praised her for actions she couldn't fully remember.

As the night grew later, and her cheeks started to hurt from the fake smiles, she realized what the Potter's meant about these functions. She hadn't taken a seat in hours, and even though her heels were cushioned, she could sense the rub on her pinky toe. Her hand throbbed a fraction from repeated clasping of hands, and she was starving and unable to eat.

A never-ending stream of people invaded their space, with well wishes and gratitude. Craving to shake her hand or wrap her in lingering hugs. Their faces holding concern as they asked of her health and mourned her losses.

It took her nearly three hours before a waiter paced by with a tray of drinks, Ginny pouncing on him like a cat and getting each of them two. Hermione welcomed the unfamiliar taste of wine to calm her nerves as the people's barrage seemed to wane.

Neville and Hannah walked up sometime after half-nine. They all sighed in relief, taking up each other's time so dull officials couldn't break in. Laughing at new tales of Neville's teaching and Hannah's more unusual patients. Stories of James and Albus continued growth and experience of new things, like Harry's broom much to Ginny's furniture's dismay.

It wasn't until half-ten when she finally saw a flash of familiar white hair. He was standing with Blaise, staring straight at her, soaked in a soft blue radiance, with a crooked grin on his lips.

She couldn't help the blush that graced her cheeks as she drank him in for the first time in nearly a month.

He was clad head to toe in black, the tux he wore so fit to his form it was clearly tailor-made for him alone. The only color, other than the grey glistening in his gaze, was the dusty blue tie draped about his neck. And at that, she reddened further.

He wore a set of black-framed glasses on his nose, his jaw lined with stubble, his hair again waves upon a crystal seashore. The picture of utter perfection, sheer handsomeness falling from every fiber of his being.

Hermione couldn't take her sights off him as he winked before leaning over to speak to Blaise.

"Hey, I'm…" she started, but Ginny's laugh cut her off.

"You've been staring like a lovesick pygmy puff for hours," Ginny chortled.

"It hasn't been hours! He just got here!" She retorted, and Ginny and Harry snorted somewhat.

"Frankly, I'm glad the ferret is finally here. That means we can finally leave," Harry added.

"I'm sorry I dragged you here," Hermione replied with a grimace. "You were right. It is awful." 

"Don't worry about it, 'Mione. We'd do anything for you," Harry smiled, bringing absolute comfort into her soul. "Except stay here any longer." 

"Are you sure you don't want to come home with us?" Ginny asked seriously.

"No, thank you, Ginny. I'm going to see Draco." 

"I don't know what you see in the ferret." 

"Ginny!" 

"I'm kidding… be safe, Hermione."

Harry gave Hermione a tight hug before the two lovers laced fingers and disappeared home to their children. She watched their retreating forms for a moment before she could feel someone step into the space behind her.

"Granger," he drawled, and her cheeks colored further.

She spun slowly, and the look in his eyes as they met orbs made her breathless.

"Hello, Draco."

"Would you care to dance?" He asked suddenly, extending his hand as he bowed slightly.

And while she didn't generally partake, she couldn't stop her hand from sliding against his palm and permitting herself to be dragged onto the dance floor. 

A slow melody strummed about them as he drew her close, gliding a hand around her back as the other clasped her's near their shoulders. Her free hand slipped to his chest as he started to sway them, his experience evident in his movements.

"How was work?" Hermione questioned as he twirled her slowly amongst the other dancers.

"Dreadfully long. I just portkeyed home not 30 minutes ago."

"From where?"

"Germany."

"I'm jealous. You all get to travel so often."

"You just went to Paris," he laughed.

"Well, that wasn't my choice! And I was only there for a few hours."

"Well, I assure you I wouldn't have chosen Germany today either," he smiled. "Thank you, by the way."

"For?"

"Allowing Mother to spend the day with you. She hasn't stopped talking about it."

"So then your tie?"

"Her doing. But I was very willing to wear it," Draco smiled again, and it melted her somewhat.

"She was very charming." 

Hermione noticed several sets of eyes lingering on them when he pushed her out and turned her about his fingers. And it made her slightly uncomfortable.

"They're all staring…" she spoke as he drew her back into his chest, closer than she had been before. 

"It will be front-page news tomorrow," he laughed darkly. 

"Why do they care so much?"

"Hermione Granger, muggle-born savor of the wizarding world, brains of the golden trio, brightest witch of her age," she smiled as he vocalized the honors the wizarding population bestowed upon her, "dancing with Slytherin, Death Eater failure, prince of darkness Draco Malfoy is nearly as unbelievable as someone witnessing a unicorn's birth." 

Their eyes met then, and she saw the soft smile on his face as he gazed down at her. 

"But I'm grateful for every moment you give me," he spoke quietly as he pulled her in even more. 

And her face flushed thoroughly as she placed her head against his shoulder.

"Granger, I… I fear I may be taking advantage of your situation…" he said softly a few moments later.

"What do you mean?"

"I've invaded your life. Inserted myself as though we've been… together for ages. Even my mother has managed to meddle in your time." 

"I don't feel that way, Draco. You've only done what I've asked. You've been… so wonderful."

"But do you feel that way because I've been the only one?"

"You haven't been the only one," Hermione stated, pulling back to meet his gaze. "Pansy has done so much. She even sleeps in my damned bed. Harry, too. George and Angelina."

The hesitation on his face didn't seem to soothe at her words.

"Draco, I don't see you as taking advantage of me in the least. I think I'd feel this way even if my accident hadn't happened."

"This way?" He whispered, a smile stretching across his lips. Hermione could only blush further as she buried her head back into his chest while he laughed.

"Do you remember that night in the shower?" He asked quietly.

"Not really…" 

"I'm sorry I left," he muttered, pulling her in closer, resting his head against hers.

Neither spoke again as they danced for a time longer, swaying in one another's arms as the music reverberated about them. And Draco had been correct. Bright flashes of light flittered as cameras captured their image. But Hermione didn't care. 

The look on his face. His strong arm wrapped around her waist. His scent of sandalwood and citrus. Everything about this moment seemed to drown all else out but them.

"You want to get out of here?" He asked softly into her hair.

"You just got here," Hermione responded, pulling back from his chest.

"And I'm ready to leave."

"I haven't even seen your mother."

"I'm sure you will see her in the future," he laughed. "You're having a dreadful time, are you not?"

"Well, maybe… This is a bit more… suffocating than I thought it would be."

"Then let's leave. I'm sure Pansy and Blaise have already snag their victim for the night."

"Where would we go?" 

"Theo's. He's having a Samhain gathering at his manor. Pretty big party every year." 

"Alright," she muttered a few moments later, after mulling over his request.

"Excellent," Draco smiled genuinely. "Meet me in the atrium? I'll get the others." 

Hermione nodded as he bowed, sweeping from her into the crowd. The atrium was mostly empty as she stepped out, only a smattering of people milling about with their partners. Most of the lights from the offices were turned out, save for a few stragglers.

She paced toward the large, golden fountain of a wizard at the center of the room, marveling of the sheer magnitude. As she grew closer, her eyes fell onto the base where a large, bronze plaque littered with names sat.

_In memory of all who were lost_

Hermione felt a sadness inside as she read them. Names she didn't know and some she did. Tears welled in her eyes as she read Fred Weasley's name and fell slowly as she saw Remus and Nymphadora Lupin. Those who had died in battle for her. For the truth in which they believed.

"Hey," came Draco's delicate whisper as his hand slipped across her back. 

"So many people…"

"Too many…" 

They stood for a moment in silence, his hand shifting to her shoulder and squeezing it somewhat.

"Are you ready?" 

"Yes, let's go," she said with a small, rueful smile. 

"Are you able to apparate?"

"I was cleared for that, yes."

"They set an apparition spot just over there," he pointed, and Hermione noticed the large mass of her friend's waiting.

When they joined their group, Pansy had her arm around a man Hermione had never seen. Millie and Daphne were laughing loudly at something the stranger said as Pansy rolled her eyes deliberately. Blaise's hand was intertwined with Luna's, and they were cuddled quite close.

"Hello, Hermione. I haven't seen you in years," Luna suggested.

"We saw each other at my birthday party just last month, Luna," Hermione laughed.

"Oh, I saw someone there, but I don't think it was truly you," Luna replied dreamily, her eyes closing as her smile brightened the width of her face.

And it made Hermione ponder. 

Her mind shifted over Luna's statement slowly as she and Draco laced arms. Realizing she was becoming herself. Or rather, the self she wanted to be. Leaving behind a person she had been, who she no longer knew.


	21. Another Fiery Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one finally has a little tiny bit of smuts. Nothing crazy. :) But the last/next chapter, I can only write at night because that's when smut comes so easily to my brain. 
> 
> And yes, there's only one more chapter before this story is complete. And since I've given you 5 today, I'm going to wait to post it. There will be an epilogue, as well.
> 
> Again, I do not own Harry Potter and make no money from posting this.

When their world stopped spinning, and Hermione's queasiness fell away, the ragtag group of Slytherins and their dates were standing in front of an elegantly lit estate. Pansy's grounds seemed trivial in comparison; the sheer size of the building making Hermione's mouth gape slightly.

A rock-laden pathway outlined by elegantly trimmed hedges stretched for what seemed to be over 300 yards. The sounds of flowing water of fountains could be heard, but they weren't visible. A soft melody saturated the air, the music of a harp, as the group commenced their journey forward. The entire pathway felt warm, as though furnaces were pushing freshly heated air upon their faces.

The walkway was topped with vine shrouded archways as they roamed toward the oversized door. The arches shimmered with small, sparkling stars and were littered with flowers, which by all accounts should be dormant by this time of year.

And Hermione couldn't help but smile at the enchanting nature of it.

"This is ginormous. What necessitates this much house?" Hermione mused.

"This is nothing," Draco chuckled, his hand slipping to the middle of her back as they strolled alongside one another.

"Nothing? Draco, this is massive. An overindulgence."

"The Manor is bigger."

"Your home? Is _bigger_ than this?" She breathed, flabbergasted.

"There are a multitude of reasons why I choose not to live there. Its sheer size being one of them."

"There they are!" A tall, brown-haired man resounded as he hauled open the door, greeting the group with a radiant smile.

It took a moment, but Hermione realized she actually recognized him. Not by name but by face. They had partnered together for school work on occasion, and the memories were floating to the top of her brain. A bit of happiness befell her at the monument of the moment. The _first_ time she had _remembered_ someone from her own memory.

"Theo!" Blaise greeted, releasing Luna's hand and clapping him on the back.

"You're late!"

"Non-sense, we are right on time," Pansy chortled, but she had a fraction of a heated sneer on her face.

"Be still my heart," Theo feigned a faint, dramatically thrusting his hand over his forehead. "Is that _the_ Hermione Granger in my home?"

"Yes, it is nice to see you again."

"Again?" Draco questioned, an eyebrow elevated in inquiry.

"I actually remember Theo," Hermione offered with a quick smile.

"You hear that, men! She remembers _me._ Better luck next time, mate," Theo guffawed as he slapped Draco on the shoulder.

Theo offered his arm to Hermione then with a boisterous smile, and she accepted graciously. She wasn't confident what it was about Theo, but he was a pleasant breath of fresh air. He was loud, but everything about his was inviting. Happy. Carefree.

Draco huffed behind her as Theo tugged them away, the group following their lead as they paced through the embellished halls of his home. An opulent home, Hermione had to admit, even if it was an overindulgence.

"What's it about me, huh, Granger? Is it my rugged good looks? My _charming_ personality?"

"I actually recall you a touch bluer," Hermione replied, and both Blaise and Draco laughed loudly behind them. Theo seemed to deflate lightly at the notion.

"Of course, it would be when those two fools put colorant in my wash."

Hermione laughed aloud then, with yet another bright smile. "Oh! I simply thought a potion had gone astray. That's even better!"

Blaise and Draco barked out more loud guffaws as the assembly came upon a wall line with multiple sets of French doorways. They were all open, sheer curtains billowing gently in the wind. Hermione could detect the unmistakable scent of burning wood wafting through in the breeze.

"As long as you remember me, I suppose. Friends, enjoy! I've host duties to attend. I shall find you all later," Theo offered, bowing to her before clapping both Draco and Blaise on their shoulders.

He seemed to linger near Pansy, chuckling as he eyed her date. She rolled her eyes, blatantly, as she seized her date's arm, hauling him through a door. Blaise and Luna followed suit, shortly after by Millie and Daphne, leaving only she and Draco somewhat alone in the sunroom.

"He's exuberant," Hermione tittered as Draco neared.

"That's a name for it," he said quietly. "You remember him then?"

He held a somewhat thoughtful look on his face as he gazed about the room. Anywhere but her. The tips of his ears were pink, and his lips were slightly pursed. The scar on his nose slightly wrinkled as he seemed to sulk.

"Just flashes of his face."

"Do you remember anything… of us?"

"I… no. Not yet."

"One day, hopefully," he said, and she thought she could hear a hint of envy in his voice.

"Are you jealous, Draco?"

He sputtered then, the bones of his cheeks reddening to match the tips of his ears as he glimpsed about.

"Of Theo? Of course not," he scoffed.

"Well, good. Maybe I _can_ ask him for dinner then. He's quite attractive."

"What?" He cried, whipping his sights to her quickly. And he jeered at the jovial face she held as pearls of laughter left her lips.

"You shouldn't be jealous, Draco. There's no other person I'd rather be here with."

A soft smile graced his lips then, his face reddening a bit more as he dropped his hand to her lower back anew, escorting her outside.

Complete astonishment invaded her as her eyes befell the grounds. A massive fire blazed in the middle of the garden, which was littered with people. Some were wrapped in full costumes, others gowns, and some, well… they weren't wearing much at all.

A shimmering pool sat to their left, the water shifting hues as patrons swam within. Hermione imagined it must be heated, like the air about them, to challenge the late-night October cold.

Guests assembled around more modest fires scattered throughout the grounds, loud laughter saturating the air above the different tones of music she could overhear. Trees and bushes and shrubbery gleamed with magic as their branches and leaves changed colors gradually, lighting the walkways throughout the garden.

Hermione remarked figures hopping about, some spitting flames and others twirling swords. As if they were jesters at a feast.

A waiter walked up and bowed, smoothly offering them a tray of drinks. Draco made to dismiss him, but Hermione quickly plucked two glasses of champagne with a sly smile.

"I thought you seemed… relaxed," Draco grinned.

"I was cleared to drink this morning. And work and apparate. But I can't do either of those here, so…" Hermione shrugged, taking a modest sip of her spirit as she handed him the second.

Draco extended a bent elbow to her, and she happily slid her hand about it. The pair wandered into the grounds then, and she felt as though she was gliding. She glanced down and noticed her steps weren't truly thumping the ground. The soles of her heels were gleaming somewhat on small clouds of light. And she remarked all the women's shoes were.

"So we don't sink," she whispered as the ingenuity of the charm produced a bright smile.

"What?" Draco questioned.

"My heels aren't touching the grass. So I won't sink."

"Oh," he laughed joyously. "Pansy reemed Theo when she destroyed a new pair of feels at one of his parties. Put that spell in place for her."

"Well, that was nice of him."

"He's whipped but refuses to admit it. I'll wager you dinner tomorrow night that he's at your home tomorrow morning," Draco laughed.

"You're on. Pansy seemed taken with uh… well, I didn't get his name."

"And you won't. He'll be gone before eleven."

Hermione and Draco roamed the grounds for some time, talking of nothing and sipping what seemed like endless drinks. She spoke of the Ministry officials she met that night. He told her of a critical acquisition he had finalized in Germany. The primary reason he had been late was the overflow of firewhiskey his new partners had wanted to drink.

As they strolled, Draco released her arm. She wanted to bemoan the loss of contact, but it took mere moments for his hand to gently wrap about hers as he laced their fingers. He didn't glance down at her, but a smile spanned his face as she softly squeezed his hand.

"I'm glad to see you tonight, Granger," Draco drawled.

"And I, you. Pansy said I should have visited you sooner."

"I wouldn't have complained," he chuckled softly, and the sound reverberated in her ears.

"Why didn't you invite me?"

"I did."

"I read all of your letters multiple times. You did not," Hermione replied resolutely.

"Multiple times?" Draco inquired, turning his head somewhat with a wanton grin. His eyes slightly heavy with what she imagined was a measure of drunkenness.

"Well… yes. But you never invited me. Pansy assumed you were too shy."

"I invited you the second night you entered my home. When I said you could visit the library whenever you liked, I meant it."

"Well, that's your library, not you."

"One in the same," Draco chortled again.

"And that was before… everything. I was worried you wouldn't want to see me."

"All I've wanted since that night is to see you," he said softly, finally meeting her gaze with a sober stare that made her heart thump faster.

They came upon a smaller fire some while later, where _their_ friends were lingering. When he left her to get them another round of drinks, she simply observed the scene.

Blaise and Luna were cuddled together on a blanket. She noted he appeared much more content than she had previously seen him. Millie and Daphne were dancing around barefoot, each with a bottle of champagne in one hand, gleeful laughs and bright smiles on their faces.

Pansy was poking Theo in the chest with a heated glare, her "date" noticeably absent. Theo was eyeing her as if he yearned to pull her in. Devour her right there. And it made Hermione blush a touch.

"Here," Draco drawled as he stepped up behind her, handing another flute of champagne around her shoulder.

Hermione knew she probably shouldn't drink it, her head was already swimming. But as she plucked the flute from his hand, it slipped to her hip, and she needed another sip to calm herself. He gripped her form firmly, drawing her back into his body, and her face crimsoned.

His grip left only a fleeting flash to shift her hair to one side before it settled back on her hip. He bent closer to her ear then, and she quivered slightly as his sigh caressed her neck.

"Are you having a good time?" He asked breathlessly, and her face flushed further.

"Very much so," she replied, sinking back into him, his warmth, his strength, his essence. The sultry laugh that passed his lips danced across her flesh. He slid his arm further about her waist, grazing her stomach, and her soul vibrated.

"You look so beautiful tonight, Hermione," Draco murmured against the surface behind her ear, his lips brushing her skin delicately.

Hermione's legs trembled slightly as his words washed over her. She tilted her head back against his shoulder, exposing the lines of her neck, and he groaned, his hand tightening in the fabric of her tulle dress.

"Thank you," she whispered.

The two stood for a while, his arm encompassing her, her heart rattling against her ribs, his sighs titillating her nape as he swayed them to the faint music echoing throughout the grounds. Pair by pair, _their_ friends departed as the party grew more reticent. Only Blaise and Luna were left beside their fire when Hermione yawned softly.

"Are you ready to leave?" Draco proposed.

She made to tell him no, that she desired to linger with him longer, but another yawn overtook her words.

"Let's go," he chuckled, moving apart from her. "You can floo home from my house."

As the colder air traveled her spine, a sadness marched with it from the loss of connection. But as Draco vanished their libations, he held out his hand, and she accepted it with a delicate smile.

A moment later, her world spun again, and they settled on plush gray carpeting. Hermione wasn't positive of what overtook her, but in mere seconds she thrust her heels off and playfully bounced into his library, frisky giggles splitting her lips. The sultry laugh she overheard from the doorway swept across her skin, making her giggle anew.

"You are tired, Granger. The floo is out here."

"I can't get over this library!" She stated, disregarding his remark as she gazed about, bewildered. Hermione's hands were grasping the back of the sofa softly, her shoulders pressed up somewhat as she rocked backward and forward on the souls of her feet.

She smelled sandalwood before his hands slipped to her sides. Her body trembled under Draco's feather-light caresses as he hummed a refined laugh. His hold tightened further, and she gasped a jagged breath, relaxing her shoulders and falling to the souls of her feet.

"The offer still stands. You may come whenever you please."

Niamh leaped onto the back of the couch then, startling Hermione as she pressed back into Draco's chest. He wrapped his arms further about her as the cat perched in front of them, yowling loudly.

She yawned anew, and he attempted to push her toward the door. But Hermione stumblingly slipped from his arms with a twirl and skipped toward her enchanting tent, squirming in. She splayed over the pillows, immersing into the softness that surrounded her with a sigh.

Niamh vaulted across the room then, neglecting Draco in her wake as she curled onto Hermione's stomach. Purring vigorously as Hermione stroked her.

"Bloody animal," Draco muttered as he crept into the tent on his knees. "What if I wish to be pet?"

The feline flicked her tail fast as Hermione fractured into subdued laughter. When Draco forced the cat aside, running a slow hand up her side as he pressed his body half on hers, his head relaxing on her chest, she forgot to breathe.

He dragged her fingers to his hair, running them lightly throughout it, prodding her. She made no move to continue as he pulled his hand away, and he nudged it gently with his head. Hermione could only chuckle as she washed her fingers through his tresses.

Draco sighed, appearing to melt into her as nails scratched in his hair, massaging his scalp. She'd tug every now and then, and he'd groan, sending tiny ripples of pleasure throughout her body into her toes. When she started to knead his neckline, his arms encircled her and crushed her impossibly closer to his form.

His essence surrounded her, sandalwood wafting from his locks as the sweetness of his whiskey coated breath caressed her skin. They laid noiseless for a time, her heart hammering against his ear as her hand swept slowly, sensually, within his hair. When he lifted slightly, his heated gaze and parted lips piercing her orbs, her core slickened.

He gazed over her features, eyes searching each iota of her face. Hermione felt her tongue dart out and wet her lower lip as she drew it between her teeth, and he groaned.

She watched his pupils swell as he shifted suddenly, her legs falling open of their own accord as he skated his body upon hers. Their middles met as she inhaled a shuddered breath. He was hovering over her, his muscular arms on either side, as he smirked.

And it carried fire straight to her womanhood.

"Draco…"

"May I kiss you?" He whispered, laced with lust.

All Hermione could muster was a nod.

He drifted in slowly, intentionally, slipping to one forearm as one hand cupped her neck. Draco hesitated only a second before he pressed their lips together, and passion roared within her.

It was sweet at first, his soft lips matching hers again and again in gentle, delicate kisses. Just enough that Hermione could feel his smooth lips on hers before he drew back and kissed her over.

Her fingers twined in the fabric of his shirt as her body reverberated with need. She tried to tug him closer, and he grinned a carnal smirk, leaning in to kiss her longer. Slower. More passionately.

His hand tightened on her neck somewhat, and he swallowed the delicate moan that tumbled from her lips, seeming to lose all faculties. His tongue danced across her lips then, and as she opened her mouth, he thrust it within. His chest pressed into hers as their tongues mingled, his free hand leaving her neck and slowly traveling down her body deliberately. Intentionally lingering and grasping at her most sensitive areas, making her sex throb.

Draco gripped her thigh tightly as their kisses deepened, and she whimpered anew. She caught his groan as he raised her knee, forcing her legs slightly further apart. As his hard manhood pressed against her center, her body burned with desire, and her hips bucked shakily.

He gradually slipped the hem of her dress higher, and his fingers teased her thigh's sensitive skin arousing her soul with a quiver. Hermione's hips lifted again as instinct overtook amid a lusty moan. Her center met his, and his hand tightened on her leg as his rumbling growl pervaded her ears.

Draco's lips lingered on hers only moments more before trailing fervent kisses to her jaw, working his way down her throat. Her hands clenched in his shirt as his tongue licked up to her ear, nipping her lobe when they met. His hips pressed into her middle, rocking slowly back and forth, and the pure pleasure that coursed throughout her aroused wanton wails to slip past her lips.

And a cat's loud yowl next to their head surprised them both.

Draco jumped up, shocked, thumping his head against Hermione's tent, and a small fairy light dropped, smacking her forehead.

He looked utterly embarrassed, and she couldn't hold the intense laughter that rumbled from her lips. His boisterous merriment joined hers as he sank down beside her, covering his face with his hands.

"I'm sorry… I took that too far," Draco said as their giggling vanished, Hermione's sides pained from the joy.

"I don't think so," she said shyly.

When he turned his head and met her sights, she could see a mixture of happiness and anxiety in his gaze.

"I suppose I should go," she spoke softly. "I'm sorry I didn't simply floo home…"

"I'm glad you didn't," Draco said as he sat, exiting the tent. His hand shifted back through the open flaps, and she accepted as he tugged her to her feet.

"Eight tomorrow night?" He asked as they paused in front of his hearth, their one hand still joined as his other fiddled with a curl.

"You're that confident you'll win?"

"Oh, I've already won."

"Assumption!"

"It's a proven fact."

" _If_ he is there tomorrow, I'll see you at eight."

"At eight," he whispered, closing the distance between their lips once more with a delicate kiss that made her knees weak.

She floo'd home that night, and Pansy wasn't in her bed. It felt odd to sleep alone, but Hermione was glad to have her own space to process the night's events.

And when Theo was perching on the sofa the next morning sipping a steaming up of coffee, reading a paper featuring she and Draco's photo, Hermione couldn't stop the smile and flutter of excitement that flooded her.


	22. Their First Date

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last official chapter! And it has smut! There's an epilogue coming soon, I'm just trying to think through all the cute things they can do with each other through time.
> 
> As always, I do not own Harry Potter nor do I make money for posting this story.

"Merlin, Granger. Go!"

"I'm nervous, Pansy!"

"You weren't shy last night!"

"I was drunk!"

"Merlin," Pansy murmured, shoveling a handful of floo powder and casting it into the fire. "Get in," she commanded, shoving Hermione into the hearth. "Malfoy Residence!"

Hermione felt her naval stretch backward as the green flames engulfed her, the excitement and nervousness in her stomach surging further.

When Draco's black leather sofa came into view, she wanted to retch from anxiety. Her feet thumped onto the stone floor of his hearth, and she nearly toppled over, and this time his laughter didn't fill her ears.

Taking a moment to steel herself, she inhaled deeply before glancing up. The scene that met her was wholly amorous. The lights were off, and mounds of candles flickered throughout the room, their radiance yielding a romantic atmosphere that made her stomach flutter further. The room was vacant, but resting on the center table, surrounded by flower petals, was a crystal glass, a small piece of parchment leaning upon the stem.

_Join me in the library_

Switching the delicate long stem glass for the parchment, she took a small sip. The unfamiliar flavor of wine was exquisite as it trickled down her throat, settling in her gut and try and calm her. Taking a deep, steeling breath, Hermione sighed and moved toward the library doors.

Forcing them open gradually, her eyes fixed upon Draco relaxing comfortably on the worn sofa, a book in his lap, and a fire roaring as he pet Niamh. The subtle glow of the hearth glittered off his hair and bathed his skin with an elegant radiance.

"You came..." he spoke softly, closing his book and taking a swig from a half-full tumbler of whiskey as he stood.

"Theo was on our couch," Hermione nodded with a gentle chuckle, finding little other words to fill the space.

"Thank you... for coming," he whispered, leisurely rounding the couch into her space.

He looked utterly handsome this evening, wearing a simple pair of light grey jeans matched with a brilliant smile. He was wearing another long-sleeve black shirt, and she found herself grateful for the coverage.

His figure made Hermione glad she had conceded Pansy's help in readying her for their date. She had initially insisted a jumper and jeans would be acceptable. But Pansy had all but dressed her in a form-fitting dark green dress before shoving her through the floo.

"Thank you for the delicious wine," she tittered, tipping the glass toward him.

A lopsided grin fell over his face as his laughter filled the space between them. He approached within arms reach, and his scent invaded Hermione's space. Sandalwood filled her senses, and her soul rippled further.

"I thought we'd have dinner on the veranda tonight."

"It's freezing out, Draco."

"Granger..."

"Right... magic," and he chuckled, offering his free hand, which she happily accepted, lacing their fingers.

Draco squeezed her hand delicately as he drew her along the expanse of the library. The doors slid open as they approached, and her breath caught slightly.

"Draco..." she breathed as her heart leaped a measure. "It's beautiful..."

Candles lined a walkway littered with flower petals leading to a beautiful pergola resting in the heart of his garden. Sheer white curtains hung from the towering, wooden beams, rustling softly as the breeze streamed through them. Fairy lights twinkled around the vine-covered roof, and pillows ornamented the blanket cloaked ground below. A short, white-cloth topped table sat in the center, low enough to sit cozily on the ground and eat.

The table held two plates and an abundance of candles, all flickering slightly, casting a beautiful hue about the space.

Draco set a soft hand upon her back, escorting her the short distance to the moonlit scene.

"It's stunning, Draco."

"It is now," he replied peacefully, and she realized he was gazing down at her.

He slipped the wine glass from her hand then and set it beside her plate. He held her hand as she sank into the mound of pillows, a smile deeper than the redness of her cheeks settling over her features.

"So, what did you make for dinner?" Hermione inquired as he perched on the opposite edge of the table.

"Well, it took so long for Zim and me to set this up that we ran out of time," he chuckled and reached to the side of the table, pulling up a stapled brown paper bag. "So, I owled Pansy about your favorite takeaway."

"Taj Mahal?"

"Correct," Draco beamed, pulling out a container of white rice followed by what she could detect was mango jalfrezi and nan. Her favorite meal.

"You've certainly made this night perfect," Hermione chuckled.

"This is only the start, Granger."

"Oh?"

"The rest will come later."

"No hints?" She laughed as he served their Indian food, filling their plates modestly.

"Hints ruin surprises."

"And surprises breed anxiety."

"You're anxious?"

"Not really. I'm quite content," Hermione smiled, scooping a spoonful of food.

"Have you had a nice day?"

"Well, Pansy spent most of it primping me..."

"Speaking of Pansy, you said last night you slept together?" Draco inquired, his eyebrow bouncing as a sly smirk grew over his lips.

"Don't be lewd!"

"Can you blame me? You advised me two beautiful women share a bed nightly. What else did you expect a 22-year-old man to imagine?" Draco laughed, and Hermione couldn't help but giggle with him.

Their conversation flowed smoothly as the night spanned later, the wine flowing with it. Hermione could feel the faint buzz of drunkenness settle into the tip of her nose as they laughed together. Their fingers were laced over the table for much of the night, his thumb circling patterns gently over her skin, making her face heat frequently.

They spoke in length of what he had accomplished following the war. He and his mother had apparently spent a great deal of time volunteering within the wizarding world during their probation. His mother planning parties and charity events for the Ministry. Volunteering with war orphans, mostly through donations to their needs when backlash spread of her efforts.

Draco helped rebuild Hogwarts and Hogsmeade through the long months after the final battle. He eventually attended Hogwarts for what he called eighth year, in which she, Harry, and Ron had evidently not participated. Though, she was still prepared enough to best him in NEWTS as she took them. She chuckled somewhat sadly at the notion.

They conversed of her parents for a time. Hermione eventually divulged Harry's story of their memory adjustments under her own wand. When he hesitantly validated that she had made the correct choice, she had cried slightly. Even though she tried desperately not to. He had simply held her hand, telling her she made the right decision, saving their lives.

Zim, a Malfoy house-elf, popped in after half-ten and cleared their plates, dressed in a rather elegant tux. He was so well mannered, bowing and resembling a butler. When the elf popped away, Draco told her that he may have let slip that this was a big night for him, and Zim had gone a touch overboard.

Their wine bottle emptied near eleven, and he finally stood. The loss of contact between Hermione's fingers made her heart fall slightly until he stood at her side, offering a hand with a light smile.

"There's a meteor shower tonight, Granger. Will you stay and view it with me?"

"I'd love to," Hermione answered, sliding her hand along his palm.

Draco lifted her effortlessly from the ground, lacing their fingers as he drew her through the grass. She had abandoned her heels long ago, and the dew that had formed already kissed her skin coldly.

They walked for some time until a canopy came into view in the distance. The white linen curtains were back by trees, with throws and cushions layered in front of them. The only lighting illuminating the space was a smattering of small candles and the moon.

"Draco, you've outdone yourself," Hermione sighed as he eased her down to the blanket, her knees tucking to the side as she sat.

"I can do plenty more, I assure you," he said quietly as he laid down next to her on his back.

"I can't imagine how this night could get any better."

"You could actually lie back with me and watch the stars," he stated with a crooked grin. One arm tucked under his head as he held out the other, inviting her to lie against his chest.

The flutter in her abdomen intensified, and she uncurled her legs, settling into his opened arm. He folded it about her, drawing her in closer as he gazed up at the skies. It took Hermione what felt like endless moments and several shaking, deep breaths to settle the thrashing in her gut.

What she felt for him was undeniable, and she wished she could remember more of _them._ Even without her recollections, she couldn't refuse the way he made her feel. It was as if her heart knew who he was, regardless if her mind recognized. The way he challenged her senses and invaded her pores like she was somehow invincible yet wholly vulnerable was mystifying.

Hermione turned her head to the stars as they laid still for a time. Save for only his movements to twirl her curls and trail his nails lightly against the skin of her arm.

He shifted his head a fraction, and Hermione felt his gaze sear into her. When he made no effort to turn it away, she let her head fall toward his. Draco's eyes were lidded, his breathing thick as their sights met, and her heart jumped somewhat.

The hand underneath his head stirred, and she accepted his delicate touch upon her chin. He raised it gently, deliberately, as he traced his thumb across her lips. He dipped in slowly and brushed a tender kiss against her lips. Her core soaked instantly as a cacophony of flutters raged in her gut at his tenderness.

Her hand shakily fisted in the fabric of his shirt as he pressed their lips together a touch rougher. She couldn't think as he pulled back, kissing her tenderly a few more times before that irritatingly sexy smirk grew across his lips.

Although it was difficult to move in the tight green dress she wore, she pushed his shoulder and rose, crawling between his legs as they widened to allow her entrance. His face was primed with pure lust as he rose to his elbows, licking his lips as she crept into him.

He shuddered as her hands pushed up the hem of his shirt, running her fingers along his sculpted abdomen. Hermione flicked his shirt somewhat, and he smirked, tugging it over his head without needing to be asked twice.

In a moment of brashness, Hermione bent down and flicked her tongue against his firm abs. He quivered again, and she felt an empowerment score through her. She flicked her tongue anew, trailing it up the expanse of his skin. He groaned aloud, one of his hands falling to the back of her head, seizing her hair as she licked her way to his neck.

When her tongue met his collar bone, a surge of pleasure coursed throughout her, and she bit hard on the front of his shoulder.

"Fuck," he growled, his hand tightening in her hair as warmth pooled in her womanhood at the roughness.

He tugged her head back, and she couldn't help but smirk at the flash of genuine desire on his face. It was better than she could have imagined. Draco pulled her forward then and crashed their lips together in a searing kiss that made her toes curl while their tongues mingled.

Her hand trailed up his thigh and fumbled with the button on his jeans. Draco pulled back some as his hand dropped to hers, stilling her movements.

"Granger... are you sure?" He asked behind a pant.

"If I didn't want to do this, I wouldn't be here," she whispered against his lips and watched the sensual smirk spread his features as his own words laved over him.

His hand clenched again in her hair, tugging her head forward as he feverishly captured her lips anew. It didn't take long for his tongue to force its way into her mouth once more, and she whined as he tugged her hair coarsely.

Hermione's hands fumbled with the button on his jeans once more, her legs still within his and somewhat stuck in her tight dress. He pulled back, chuckling heatedly as he drew out his wand. A moment later, a breeze blasted against her skin, and she realized their outer clothing had vanished.

"I love magic," she snickered, throwing her legs across his hips and circling her arms about his neck. "Pansy's going to kill you."

"Merlin, Granger, I do not want to hear about her right now," he growled, running his hand firmly up her back and pulling her forward.

When their lips connected again, Hermione's whole body surged with desire. His thumbs made quick work of the clasp on her new bra, her nipples hardened the moment they fell free.

He slid the bra from her shoulders and cast it aside, his hands skimming smoothly against the soft surface of her skin to cup her breasts. As he pinched both nipples between his fingers, rolling them, her lips left his in a delicate moan.

Draco smirked up at her before his head leaned in, pressing hot kissing to her collar bone, her neck, her shoulder. To the tops of her breasts. Before his mouth enveloped a nipple, his tongue swirling about it. When he nipped it lightly, Hermione's cunt throbbed with need as her fingernails dug into his back.

Her hand slipped into his hair as he flicked his tongue over her left nipple and then her right. His hands trailed about her body, and she moaned anew at the pressure as they dug into her hip bones.

Hermione sank lower on him then, and her cunt caressed into his hard cock. She circled her hips slightly, humping him and sliding her clothed womanhood up and down his long organ. She couldn't stop the gasps that fell from her lips as her movements pressed friction into her apex. Draco gripped her hips and stilled her as her face fell into a frown.

He raised her slightly, and with an unseen flick of his wand, his cock sprang alert and kissed her now bare core gently. The heat of his right hand vanished from her body as he took ahold of his shaft. He traced the tip through her dampness and gently guided her down onto his cock.

His hands slid to her hips, grip tight as he laid back with his brows furrowed in pleasure. Hermione sank further and seething his manhood with small whimpers at the fullness. Before her hips met his, he smirked and bucked into her, and unadulterated bliss coursed through her as she gasped out, her hands falling to his chest. He laughed heatedly and bucked again as Hermione's nails dug into his pecs.

Draco delicately pulled her hips forward, and the tension on her clit enticed new moans. His hands started to guide her, back and forth, as pleasure crept into her toes.

When she took over, rocking her hips languidly with his arousal wholly sheathed in her center, he moved his hands, drawing hers from his chest and lacing their fingers. Hermione straightened her back, thumping her hips a fraction faster as her cries saturated the area around them.

The heated gaze on his face, his eyes lidded, utter desire on his lips made her body tremble. Hermione rolled her hips faster as her cunt pulsed, weeping from the pleasure of his thick member between her lips. She couldn't help but throw her head back as pressure built in her core, an unending string of cries slipping from her lips.

As her legs started to shake, his fingers dropped hers as he gripped her hips tightly, stopping her yet again. She whimpered at the lack of friction, only for a moment before he plunged his hips up into her. Hermione gasped aloud, and he smirked, slamming into her again.

She felt his knees pull up, and he took her off guard as he thrust into her again. And again, burying himself fully, quickly. Picking his pace up as her fingers clutched his forearms. Loud screams dropped from her mouth, some entirely silent, as he fucked up into her, grunting quietly and seizing her hips for stability.

"Yes, Draco, gods, yes. More!" She cried, and he picked up his speed, plunging into her swifter. Her toes pointed. Her body shivered. And she squandered all control as she toppled over the cliff, her orgasm pulsing throughout her entire body. Her mind was blank. All she could think about was the feel of his cock as it rammed inside her.

He fucked her unrelenting as her legs shook, her body going limp as she laid forward against his chest, breathing heavily.

He relaxed his movements some as their lips met in chaste kisses. Hermione felt his hands run up her body then, his arms embracing her firmly. Before she could think straight, Draco flipped them, and her spine met soft pillows once more, his manhood still wholly within her.

He smirked at her slightly before meeting their lips and rousing a slow dance of their hips. He kissed her passionately when she opened her mouth, his tongue sweeping inside.

When she raised her legs and coiled them around him, he groaned, sliding his hands under her shoulders, his whole weight falling onto her. The weight of his body and the heat between her legs made her cry out as he fucked her gently, her trembling fingers clawing at his back. She could feel every long inch of him as his head fell to her shoulder, caging her in.

Hermione trailed her fingernails up and down his back and heard the shuddered breath he took.

"Draco, please," she whispered, and his body vibrated before he ravaged her. She panted loudly and clutched his back as he quickened the snap of his hips.

"Fucking hell, Granger," he moaned deeply as Hermione's teeth sank into his shoulder.

His pace grew punishing, but her cunt welcomed it, begged for more. She could feel tension building again, a tingle of sheer ecstasy invading her womanhood. She snapped her hips, meeting his rhythm as whispered obscenities slipped from his lips.

"Fuck," he grunted as his movement became frantic, his fingers digging into her shoulders as he punished her. Her body pleaded to come again, her legs shaking as her loud cries permeated the air.

"You're perfect, Hermione," he said, and her pleasure soared at the music of her given name cried from his lips. Her fingernails dug into his back anew as he cried out.

"Gods, yes!" She screamed as the pressure burst within her, utter satisfaction spreading through her form, making her toes curl. Her fingers grasp his back, and her teeth into sink into his neck anew as her walls clamped around him.

"Fucking..." and Draco moaned loudly, crashing into her thrice more before his movements stilled within her.

His body slumped onto her, still connected, as their sweat mixed. Their pants loud, and he crushed his arms around her, kissing her neck softly. They laid together, his sighs caressing her nape and her fingers tracing patterns on his broad shoulders as their breathing quieted.

"I can say I certainly didn't expect that," he laughed quietly, removing himself from her center and attempting to roll off her. Hermione clutched his shoulders to stall him.

"Stay there, please. I like the pressure," Hermione urged quietly, and he merely nodded, sliding his hands under her back and meeting their chests once more.

"I'll lay like this forever, if you wish," he murmured into her neck, kissing her skin there softly.

Hermione set her chin on his shoulder and trailed feather-light fingernails down his back. Shooting star after shooting star flittered by, and she finally chose to make a wish.

Wishing with all her being that she'd continue to grow. Continue to learn. Continue to love. And become precisely the woman she was meant to be through all of her tragedy.


	23. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this is it! The epilogue. 
> 
> Thank you from the bottom of my heart for reading my story. Don't forget to give Vinculum Terra a follow. I'll be spending my time writing that one, which is a 6th year war time fic.

"Lyra Helen Malfoy. Bed. Now!" Hermione whispered for the third time that night through her daughters' doorway.

"Mum! Please! One more chapter!"

"You said that an hour ago. If you wake your sister, you know how mad she'll be. Bed!"

Her curly, brown-haired, silver-eyed daughter huffed a very familiar annoyance as she snapped her book closed, turning off the reading lamp on her head. Hermione simply swung her head side to side, trying to hide the satisfied smile on her face at her daughter's love for learning, closing the door with a crack.

Hermione Jean Granger Malfoy paced back to her own room then, down the hall, passing by Scorpius' vacant bedroom with a rueful smile. He had gone to Hogwarts last month, and she missed him terribly.

But nowhere near the level of the man she crawled into bed with as she stepped into their room.

Draco had been an inconsolable mess when his only son boarded the Hogwarts Express. Not to mention the tears while Scorpius was fitted for his robes. Or buying his first books. Or any time he asked to stay the night at Harry and Ginny's with Albus in the period leading up to his departure.

And each time he had wept, Hermione loved him that much more.

After their first official date in his home, their relationship had been an incredible whirlwind. Something buried inside Hermione nagged, assuring her everything about Draco was precisely what she wanted. What she needed. And she had taken a deep plunge immediately.

By the time of their third official date, when he took her to see a movie after a quick dinner in Diagon Alley, she had remembered their first kiss. How she felt when he had all but assured her he was guarding her in their fifth year. The fervent spark within her soul that she hadn't genuinely acknowledged at that time. And the fearless rush of brashness that had connected their lips.

That night they ended up in her bed at Pansy's, and the morning after had been quite the scene.

After weeks of dating, she eventually returned to work. Draco had appeared in her doorway at lunchtime with bag meals and a bundle of flowers because he knew "she wouldn't have time for anything else." And he had been right. She barely touched the food he brought as he sat on her office sofa, staring at her with a sappy smile.

On the first anniversary of her accident, the pair had visited her parents' grave for the first time. She had broken into loud sobs while he held her on the grass around their tombstones. She cried for days after, and he simply held her, loved her. Allowed her to feel as much grief as she needed without humiliating her for it.

One year after their first date, he recreated their memorable night, down to observing the stars in his garden. At the end of the evening, as she laid naked in his arms, he had asked her to move in. And she graciously accepted. They spent that weekend moving her possessions out of Pansy's estate. Both women cried at the thought of living separately after being so connected for so long.

It was a tense month after his father died in Azkaban. He fervently disputed that he cared. Asserting that he was _glad_ the "bigoted old fool" had died. But when she found him weeping in the library over a barren bottle of bourbon, all she could do was embrace him. Comfort him through the grief he held, unable to lay to rest his contempt.

Her curriculum reform passed unanimously in the Wizengamont days before New Years, and Draco had thrown her a party. Nothing extravagant, just all their friends. Gryffindor, Slytherin, Ravenclaw, and Hufflepuff alike squeezed into the Leaky Cauldron, jostling each other as they toasted her. And Neville, who had been a massive help from within Hogwarts. Beers, whiskeys, and wine were consumed by the plenty that night.

And nine weeks later, she discovered she was pregnant.

And Draco had wept happily when she informed him.

During her pregnancy, they attended wedding after wedding. Pansy and Theo were first, followed shortly after by Blaise and Luna. Ron and Susan's marriage had been a greater shindig that she imagined, and the Burrow has been a loud ruckus all night. Millie and Daphne had gone to a Healer education exchange. Both came back with rings on their fingers and American men on their arms.

When Scorpius Draco Paul Malfoy was born, the spitting image of his father, memories had engulfed her. By the time they were released from St. Mungos, she could recollect virtually all of their relationship. And almost her whole life before they had remet on the muggle streets of London.

Pansy was made Scorpius' godmother, and as loath as Draco was of the prospect, Harry had been named godfather.

On the morning of their wedding, two months after Scorpius's first birthday, Hermione was considerably sick. And while their rather _lavish_ wedding had gone off without a glitch, planned by none other than Narcissa, she couldn't enjoy it fully. Too nauseous to eat or drink anything.

They had to call their honeymoon short because of her consistent sickness, portkeying directly to St. Mungos on their way home.

And at her Healer appointment, she had been in the bathroom when the doctor told Draco that Hermione was pregnant - with twins. And when he told her, a splendid grin on his face, she had raced back into the loo to retch. From sheer exuberance and morning sickness.

They spent months looking for the perfect house before Draco cracked and built Hermione the home of her dreams. A 2-story cottage was very similar to her parents' home in size and structure. He had conceded the small size in favor of a library taking up its own wing.

It was finished mere days before she gave birth, and their friends had pitched in to helped them move. Well most. Ginny and Pansy had both been nearly as swollen as Hermione. So the three sat and supervised their husband's work. Mostly grinding their nerves through laughter.

Lyra Helen Malfoy and Carina Narcissa Malfoy were born 5 weeks early, spending a week under St. Mungos' care as Hermione's body healed. Lyra favored her mother much, her brown hair already curled whisps on her head. And Carina had straight blonde hair with golden eyes. A beautiful mesh of their genes.

When three young children tried to tug at the ends of her sanity, Narcissa had offered to move in and support her. And Hermione had wept into her shoulder tears of relief. She moved in that night, and Draco started construction on her in-law suite in the land behind their home.

As their children grew, Draco slowly stepped back from work. By the time Scorpius was six, Malfoy Enterprises was helmed by a council of trusted wizards and witches, leaving Draco home free caring for their children fulltime.

Hermione popped back into the working world then, stepping into a role in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. It didn't take long for formal legislation to be introduced to the Wizengamont, establishing the House Elf Livelihood Preservation Fund (or H.E.L.P. Fund.)

It had been met with a vigorous bit of skepticism from a particular sect of wizardkind, Hermione even being hit with tomato once. But the program had soared to successes as she was promoted to Department Head.

That had been two years ago, and the Malfoy's life hadn't gotten any slower. Narcissa has donated a rather large sum of money to open a new wizarding primary school a year ago. And while it wasn't within her department, Hermione was fighting vigorously to allow muggle-born students to be admitted. Giving them early access into the world in which they would eventually live.

Draco shifting beside her pulled her from her memories, where she often lingered after having spent so much time clouded.

Scanning his form, she smiled somewhat. He had aged beautifully, his sharp features softening as he matured. He kept his hair long and his beard full but short. And the laugh lines that circled his eyes from the happiness is their marriage pervaded him.

Hermione trailed her hand over Draco's back, leaning in and kissing the space between his shoulders. He stirred slightly, and she kissed him again.

"Hmmm," he hummed, and Hermione kissed the back of his neck. "Love, I'm sleeping."

"I'm feeling nostalgic…"

Draco rolled over then, his eyes still closed as his arm fell open for her to lay within. Which Hermione did quickly. He wrapped his arm around her, similar to their first night, and she nuzzled into his chest.

"What's on your mind?"

"You."

"What did I do this time?" He chuckled.

"Given me 3 beautiful children, a lovely home, and a wonderful life."

His eyes finally cracked at that, gazing down at her with a sweet smile.

"Lyra was reading again?"

"Mhm," she laughed.

"You've got such weird triggers, Malfoy," he smiled. His free hand cupped her face then, and Hermione leaned into it.

"I love you, Hermione Jean Granger Malfoy. And all those brats you birthed."

"They're only brats because you are!"

"Doesn't change how much I love you," he chuckled, kissing her softly.

"I love you, too, Draco."

"Now, go to sleep."

She laid awake a while more, her husband's strong arm around her, as she gazed at the picture beside her bed. Of her parents smiling faces on a beach in Australia.

She missed them, terribly, every day she woke. Every memory she made with her own family. But she knew everything she had suffered, even their loss, lead her to be the resilient woman she was this day. And that they would be genuinely proud of her for everything she had accomplished.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!! I hope you enjoyed. :) Smash the kudo button if you did.
> 
> And check out my other fics if you are interested! 
> 
> Vinculum Terrae - 6th year soul bond fic: [click here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23471545/chapters/56271586)
> 
> Stellarium - a smutty + fluffy one shot: [click here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24007060)
> 
> Tomorrow, at Dawn - short story about loss and finding a new love: [click here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24962581/chapters/60426976)


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